


Return and Restoration

by Picpicpic



Category: Our Girl
Genre: Afgan/UK, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Army, BBC1, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, Memory Loss, Recovery, Strong Female Characters, Trauma, aftermath of kidnapping, herstory, longwayhome, recounts of torute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 19:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 60,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picpicpic/pseuds/Picpicpic
Summary: Rescuing Molly Dawes from captivity in Afghan was only the first step to bring her back.Though determined to succeed, Captain Charles James discovers that the way back - the way home -is longer and more complex than either of them would have imagined.Though based on characters from the BBC film and series 'Our Girl', this is a standalone and can be read without previous knowledge of the series.





	1. PART 1: AFGHAN

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER  
> The main characters of this story: Captain James, Molly Dawes, Morley, members of 2 Section and the Dawes family as well as Sam and Candy, belong to the creators of BBC1 program Our Girl. 
> 
> The rest of the characters are mine. 
> 
> Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

PART 1: AFGHAN


	2. Rescue

" _Dawes_?"

His voice radiates through the small space, though he had whispered. His eyes need a long while to adjust to the darkness, the small window set high above in the wall emitting very little light. A shiver runs up his spine and he's not sure if it's caused by the cold dampness of the walls or the anticipation of finding the woman he's looking for. A sour stench hits his nostrils as he stops in place and listens. It is then, as the gloom of the stall is broken slightly by the ray of light from the open door behind him, that he notices the decaying straw scattered on the floor. He pulls his thoughts from the horrific state of the place and concentrates on listening. He hears it, barely; Soft, shallow, hurried breaths from the dark far corner. As he turns towards the sound, intending to move forward, the breaths turn to panicked gasps and he hears a clatter and scratch against the stone floor. Whatever it is, it's trying to move away from him; scared.

He crouches down, leaning on the balls of his feet, stabilizing himself with one finger against the floor. A dull pain reminds him that his leg has reservations about such conditions but he figures, if he wants to get any closer to the barely traceable, hunched figure in front of him, he must refrain from looming over her, and bring himself to be as small as her. He speaks softly into the darkness, hoping she'll understand him. Not daring to hope she'll recognize him.

_"Molly?"_  the raspy breaths hitch; he takes it as a good sign and continues.  _"It's Charles. James. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help. I'm here to get you out."_  

He stops to listen if he can hear a change in her breathing, but it's as if she's holding her breath. He can feel her eyes on him, and for a moment he thinks he sees a glimmer of green reflected by the pale light behind him. 

_"I'm going to come to you, please don't be afraid, I don't mean to hurt you."_  It's as if he's talking to a child, or worse, a wounded cub, instead of a fully-grown woman.

Slowly, as to not frighten her, all the while clearly indicating his moves and intentions, giving her time to react, he straightens up and moves closer to her. She huddles further into herself as if folding herself into a ball is a well-learned tactic, but she doesn't move further away. Her eyes follow him intently. 

As he comes closer the details of her situation reveal themselves to him and he must make an effort not to let his personal reactions slip; Her hair, once long and silk-like smooth, now cut unevenly short in what seems to have been violent outbursts of a harsh hand, the abruptly-ending tips indicating probable use of a dull knife rather than scissors. Full with grime and mud, the dusty locks entangle into one another into sticky bulky blotches of hair. As he crouches before her he sees glimpses of her face behind her protective hands; covered with dust, a relatively new gash is open above her right eye, sticky remains of blood dribbling into her eyelashes and onto her mucky cheek. The left side of her face, from cheekbone to lips, is swollen, stricken by what must have been a hard blow. Her hands, trying both to protect and hide her face, are dirty and nimble, her fingers twitching uncontrollably ever so lightly, fingernails bitten extremely short, the flesh underneath dirty and bleeding, while two fingernails have gone black from previous harm. He sees bruises along her arms and shoulders, where her loose undershirt hangs torn. The thought of further injuries hiding under the remainder of her clothes makes him nauseous and weak but he remains in his place, lowering himself again, carefully stretching a hand toward her, a silent offering of help.

For a while they stay like that, crouching in front of each other, assessing one another. He can see the questions flittering across her face, her inner battle to decide if he's trustworthy, safe. He feels the criticality of this moment, her decision projecting from here on forward, as if, if he's deemed trustworthy now, he'll have gained it for good. 

Eventually she loosens the tightness in her muscles, enough to stretch her hand out, a low wail leaves her lungs as her frozen fingers touch his. In that moment, all doubts about his decision to be there, the strings and rank he pulled, the lines he'd crossed to be the one to bring her out, evaporate. It had to be him. 

He slowly wraps his fingers around her thin wrist, extending the contact, the touch of their skin. His eyes find hers to make sure he's not losing her, not breaking the gentle trust establishing between them. 

_"_ _Can you stand up?"_  he whispers to her, hoping she won't scare. She's so delicate and broken, he's afraid she'll crumble away. Instead, he sees the question working its way into her mind, her eyes reflecting determination, her jaw clenches; she reminds him then of the old Molly, his Molly; then he feels her gathering her strength and directing it towards the legs folded under her. 

For the smallest moment, she succeeds, her body unfolding just a few inches, her legs pushing upwards. But it's gone as soon as it started, her legs buckle under her and she loses balance and collapses. Ready for such a scenario, his arms shoot forward to catch her weight and stop her from hitting the ground.

_"It's okay. You're okay, you're safe"_  he whispers to her as he holds her in place, her breathing back to erratic pants after the physical exertion, her eyes filled with terror. 

_"I'm going to need to pick you up, Molly, and carry you out. Are you okay with that?"_  her eyes slowly shift toward the door, squinting at the light and then back to his. He can feel her uncertainty but also her understanding that there is no other choice. She nods with the slightest move of the head, and he can hear her catch her breath _.  
_

 

_"Alright, good,"_  he decides to keep talking to her, explaining what he's about to do, a feeble attempt to give them both time to calm, and cover his own trepidation. 

_"I'm going to bring your arm around my neck and slip one of my arms under the curve of your knees, and the other at your back,"_  he waits a short moment to see her reaction. When none comes he goes on. 

_"_ _Then I'm going to stand up and carry you out. If anything hurts or is uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?"_  he waits for her answer, and though he's looking directly at her, he's not actually sure he didn't imagine her tiny nod.  _"Okay, here we go."_  

Leaning in, to shift her weight and slowly arranging their limbs as he had described, he then pushes himself up to his feet. Even though she's not heavy at all, surprisingly light, actually, the movement puts a strain on his once-injured leg, and as he rises he shortly loses balance and stumbles backward with her in his arms. 

She cringes and panics, trying to escape his hold, but he steadies himself and holds her against his chest, quickly whispering into her ear, trying to reassure her.

  _"Sorry, I'm sorry, you're okay. I was injured a while ago and my leg sometimes acts out. We're okay now. We're okay."_  he says, grounding his balance and catching his breath. 

He then realizes that in an ordinary world he wouldn't have had to explain that to her as she was there on the bridge when it happened, she having been the one that tended his wounds. 

But the world hadn't been ordinary since the day she was taken. And he's not sure if she's recognized him, or their shared history, by now. 

He feels her settle in his arms and he slowly begins taking steps toward the door.

A few steps from the door, just before he crosses into the ray of light coming in, he feels her tense in his arms, her fingers prying into his shoulder. He stops to think what the matter might be and catches the fearful questioning look in her eyes.  _"We've taken out all the insurgents, there is no danger for you out there. When we come out, you'll see forces of the British army that have come for you, a lot of people that want to see you safe at home."_  He hopes he'd understood her correctly and then a thought comes to his mind.

_"Maybe it's better you close your eyes Molly, the light might be harsh on your eyes if you've been in here a while."_  He looks at her and she moves her gaze from his towards the light, then sinks her head back into the crook of his neck and closes her eyes, preparing for him to move on, she holds her breath. He takes it as a sign for him to proceed and steps into the beam of light and then through the door.

He stops short of the door and takes a moment to adjust his eyes to the light, the heat of the sun felt immediately on their skin in great contrast to the dampness inside. 

_"Breathe for me, Molly."_  He whispers as he realizes she's been holding her breath,  _"You're okay, we're outside, just a few more moments."_  

He hears the slow release of air from her lungs but as she instinctively tries to open her eyes, she shrieks with pain against the light causing his heart to jump and pound against his chest. He makes his way hurriedly towards the medevac, breezing past the waiting paramedics and climbs swiftly into the aircraft and out of the sun. 

_"Okay, it's over, it's over, you're alright"_  he whispers, not sure if to her or to himself, holding her tighter for a moment before laying her on the empty stretcher as the team of paramedics moves in to begin poking and prodding to assess her vitals. But as he moves back to make way and leave the helicopter her fingers quickly catch his sleeve, a howl leaving her throat and a look of horror transfixed in her eyes. She begins to jostle and thrust her body against the paramedics in an attempt to follow him and he realizes he has to act fast before she injures herself any further.

He crouches back down at her side, his fingers caressing her forehead, pushing strands of hair from her eyes as he whispers to her.

_"Dawes, calm down, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere. Calm down."_  As he says it, he looks at the paramedic, holding a syringe in his arm, receiving the okay that he may fly in with her. 

_"They're going to give you something for the pain, it will make you sleep, and when you wake up in the hospital, I'll be right there, I promise"_. He knows he shouldn't have done that - promise. God knows what trouble he'll get into by calling the shots to medevac with her, but her anxiety requires extreme measures and he's thinking on his toes. 

As the sedative spreads through her body, her head becoming heavy, the last thing she hears is his voice over the radio,  _"Primary secure. Requesting permission to escort the medevac. I repeat, primary is secure."_  and with that, she slips into a blissful darkness.


	3. Revival

It's warm. And comfortable. And bright. A ray of light warming her closed eyelid. If she could, she'd stay like this forever. And with this thought her conscious rushes in, sending panic through her veins, fluttering thoughts come crashing through her brain, kicking her into motion;  _'this can't be good, this can't be safe, there is no comfort or comfortability, it's dangerous, it's a trick, hide, protect yourself, open your eyes, prepare for pain, prepare to fight, do not – '_

But when she opens her eyes, it's still, and white, and quiet. There is no apparent danger. She acknowledges the facts around her; She's lying in a bed, with sheets. The sun is coming in through a veiled window. There is a door, closed, and next to it a big low window, a curtain hanging behind it, blocking the view. There is a sink with a small curtain covering a mirror hanging above it, and behind a fabric screen, a toilet seat. 

The sight makes her reflect on her needs and she looks down at herself to find she is dressed in a hospital gown, a thin tube rising from her arm to a bag hung on a stand beside her bed. Her index finger is set in a small white clasp. Somewhere in her mind, she knows it's only there to take her pulse, but the sight of tubes and wires sticking out of her, binding her to the bed, sends her into a fright and she yanks at them in an attempt to free her arm. 

The IV tube is set with a needle, and it stings as she pulls it out, a small drop of blood forming on her arm. The clasp on her finger is easier and quicker, but as it leaves her finger, a machine above her head starts beeping loudly, the sound bringing confusion to her head, she looks around for a place to hide but before she can bring herself to move, the door flings open and a woman dressed in green scrubs comes into the room smiling at her, reaching for the machine and quickly bringing the room to a still.   
The sharp silence after the violent noise confuses Molly even more and she shrinks in her bed with anxious anticipation as to what the woman will do next.

_"Private Dawes, my name is Sister Margaret Jacobs, but everyone calls me Margi, I'm a QA here at Bastion, can you hear me?"_  

Looking up at the young woman, her British accent bringing Molly some relief, Molly nods lightly. 

_"Okay, good. I'm going to take care of that bleeding,"_  she points at Molly's arm, where the IV needle was yanked out,  _"and then I'm going to need to put in a new IV. I'm sorry, but you need your fluids. You being a trained medic, you should understand that. The doctor will come later to look at your eye and throat."_  

As soon as the words are out her mouth, Molly's hand shoots up to her face, to discover her right eye is completely covered with a bandage. Her fingers find their way down to her neck, but no injury or bandaging is evident there. Another thought occurs to Molly and she peeks under the sheets. To her horror, she finds another tube coming out, bound to her leg and leading to a plastic bag hanging out the end of her bed, yellow liquid filling it half way up. 

Her eyes shoot up to the nurse beside her bed as her finger fiddle along the tube to release the offending article. The nurse's eyes show no surprise, though they hold a tad of worry in them. 

_"It's a catheter, you've been asleep for quite some time, it's protocol. Once you're drinking again we'll take it out."_  

She continues without registering Molly's confused reaction.  _"Right, then, a new IV."_  but as she takes the equipment she needs out the drawer beside the bed, preparing to insert a needle into Molly's arm, Molly pulls her arm back and cringes into the pillow and towards the other side of the bed. 

_"Molly, don't do this. Don't resist, or I'll have to put you under. It's doctor's orders, you need an IV until you're ready to drink. Don't fight me, or I'll have to call assistance."_  

With this Molly leaps out of bed. Everything hurts, and she crashes to the floor with a thud, the revolting bag of piss plunging after her. The alarms in her head keep ringing loudly and she tries to push herself against the floor and towards the door. 

As she looks at it, trying to assess the distance she has before her, the door flings open again and three young soldiers in olive green T-shirts and combat trousers come in. They stop short of the door, their heads moving from the woman beside the bed to the one the floor. Molly tries to scramble away under the bed, a small shriek leaving her lips, but the men are too many, too big, too quick for her and though she thrashes around and tries to bite, they soon have their hands on her, heaving her to the bed and holding her in place while the nurse ties her arms and legs into padded restraints attached to the protective bar around the bed. 

Molly tries to go on fighting but it's useless, the nurse now injects her with something and soon the room is fuzzy, her head heavy, and her eyelids close against her will.

 ...

_"Why is she in restraints?"_  his voice came out more critical than he had meant but it pains him to see her so delicate and helpless, so lost and tiny in the white hospital bed, his instincts jumping in to help and protect, to guard her against harm and make sure she's not mistreated. 

_"Because,"_  the nurse's voice knowingly returns his critical tone as she joins him to look at Molly through the window, making him blush lightly at his presumption,  _"she's been in and out of it since yesterday and she insists on pulling out her IV every time._ _She needs her fluids, you'd think that as a medic she'd realize it but she's resisting. If we can bring her to drink from a cup, we'll be a step closer to taking it out. Her throat is perhaps still sore but she should be able to start drinking."_

_"Sore?"_  he reflects her words back at wit's end to why her throat would be sore, he hadn't seen anything there. 

_"Dr. Casey has been in to look at it, there seems to be an infection, we're treating with antibiotics. He thinks she's exerted her vocal cords screaming, if it doesn't reduce in the next few days, he might have to operate. That's another reason she needs that IV."_  

Charles takes some time to process all that. Evident damage under the surface; that's just the beginning - the physical. He wonders what's going on in her head, and heart.  Margi's voice pulls him suddenly from his thoughts,  _"Are you even cleared to receive all this information?! What's your clearance here, what's your relationship?"_   _'_

_The question of the hour'_ , he thinks to himself. _"Not yet, but I'm working on it. I've been in touch with her mother to sign over clearance to me while we're here. I'm Captain Charles James, I brought her out."_

_"Nurse Margaret Jacobs, you can call me Margi. I'm the head nurse responsible for her treatment and the only one in contact with her until now. We're taking good care of her, I promise you that."_

_"Yes, of course, sorry about that. I didn't mean to..."_  he stops midsentence, embarrassed by his behavior, realizing he needs to be on this woman's good side to be able to see Molly.  _"May I go in?"_

_"At your own risk,"_  she answers with a smile, then nods reassuringly at his apparent alarm,  _"I'd just do it gradually, give her time to adjust._ _Here,"_  She holds out a plastic hospital cup with a straw.  _"maybe you'll make some progress. Oh, and here,"_  she hands him a small whiteboard and an erasable pen.  _"we don't want her to strain her voice, do we."_

_"You're ready for everything,"_  he says with amazement as he clutches the whiteboard, and prepares to go in, hearing her chiming sarcastically behind him.

  _"And don't you forget that."_


	4. Reacquaintance

He opens the door apprehensively; even though he'd just watched her through the ward window, he's not sure what to expect once inside.   
Lying on the bed, her head is turned the other way, so he knocks gently to attract her attention.

Her head swings in his direction so quickly, she must do a double-take, her muscles tense with instinct, her eye scanning him up and down, assessing. Then something relaxes, just a tiny bit, and she watches him as he stands there, holding a cup and clutching a whiteboard under his arm. 

He feels like a boy, standing in front of the class at show and tell, or, like a teenager standing in front of a girl, asking her to prom; his feet and mouth heavy and confused. In short, he feels like a complete knob, instead of a fully grown, trained military captain. _  
_

_'She looks better than she did before,'_  he thinks, though that's not saying much. There's more color in her cheeks, her wounded eye is bandaged, and her left cheek has had time to shrink back from its swelling, leaving a black mark along her cheekbone. Her hair, it seems, has been washed, probably while she slept, the sticky chunks cut out quickly, but the rest has not yet been tended to, to help its style; it stands at different lengths and angles. 

He realizes he's been standing at the door for a while, gawping, and must now commence his entry. He wants to speak her name but isn't sure which position he should take with her; should it be back to the formal, military, last-name basis, or perhaps it's okay they resume where they left off, before her tour, their budding relationship allowing for some personal regard. He wants to speak her name, god knows he has in the past months she was gone, pacing at night, thinking where and how to find her. 

At last, his heart conquers his mind, as always concerning her.  _"Molly,"_  it tingles on his tongue and in his lungs, he could it say over and over all day long,  _"may I come in?"_  he asks it, though he's not sure what to expect in return.

Her tiny nod encourages him to come forward, he sets the cup and board on the tray at the end of her bed and suddenly feels lost at what comes next. He chooses the technical safe option, kicking himself for being such a coward.  _"The nurse says you should try and drink, it'll speed up the process till you're off the IV._ _I understand you've been having problems with it,"_  he hears his involuntary 'captain tone' that comes with stress and immediately regrets opening his mouth. Her one visible eyebrow scrunching over her eye as anger fills her gaze. This is not what she needs from him.  _"Sorry. I didn't mean to... the nurse gave me the cup and..."_   _'stop blabbering and get a grip!_ ' he thinks as his hand goes absent-mindedly to the back of his head, pulling at his hair to find his focus. He stands there awkwardly another short while and decides to try again; plunge in with the question that has been picking at his brain,  _"Do you remember me? Do you know who I am?"_

Her nod sends his heart leaping out of his chest, he can't hold back and a smile washes over his face. He sees Molly's expression change to wonder and curiosity. He hates that she's tied up, like a criminal, like an animal, he wants to free her, he wants to wrap his arms around her and hold her forever. He takes a few careful steps closer towards the side of the bed, but when he feels her tense up, he stops and lifts his hands to show her he's backing off. The last thing he wants is to scare her. He looks around for a chair, finding it set against the wall under the high window. He takes a few steps and sits down, calculating his next move. Leaning his elbows on his knees, his fingers weaved together in front of his face, he chooses the most direct and honest approach. Perhaps she'll appreciate being treated as a capable equal.

 _"I'd like to talk to you , Molly, if you're comfortable with that. But you're not supposed to strain your voice. And being tied down, you can't use the board."_  Her glare challenges him with defiance.  _"So, the way I see it, we have two options. Either I settle for yes and no questions, or we find a way to free you from those restraints."_  

He tries to read her reaction, knowing which of the options she'd prefer. It can't feel very dignified to be dependent on someone else for your freedom. God knows she's experienced it enough for a lifetime _. "I want to untie you, Molly, but you have to promise not to pull the tubes out. It goes both ways this trust thing. If you try and pull them out, we'll be back at square one."_  

He looks into her eye as she nods her head in understanding. " _Okay,"_ he comes back closer to her, slowly reaching for the restraints that hold her legs. Once her legs are free she shifts her posture, folding her knees up, and wiggling her toes. She waits as he fiddles with the ties on her wrists, his finger brushing lightly against her skin. She sees the question and desire in his eyes, but he chooses against it, taking a small step back to watch her. 

As soon as she's free she sits up, folding her legs under her, her hands moving over her wrists where the buckles held her in place. She lets her fingers climb up her arm, to where the needle enters her skin and sees his jaw tense as he follows her fingers. 

She enjoys this new found power, but realizes she better fill her side of the bargain if she wishes to hold on to it, she lets her hands fall to her lap, a small smile of gratitude fluttering on her lips. 

Reassured she won't try again, he leans over, to take the white board and hands it to her, then goes to bring his chair closer to her bed.

.

 _"You're the one that brought me out,"_  she writes hastily on the board, turning it to him before he's fully seated. 

 _"Yes, that right"_ , he doesn't let his disappointment show, at that being the way she remembers him, not anything from earlier  _"do you remember anything else?"_  he tries to keep his voice steady, not letting his hopes up. 

She looks at him as she thinks about his question, then her head dips down as she quickly writes another answer  _"you promised you'd be here when I woke up"._

There's something so Molly about it, he has to hold himself from laughing, he tries to read her expression,  _"Yes, I'm very sorry about that, I shouldn't have promised. I came as soon as I could. Being in the army, we don't always get what we want, do we?"_

They sit in silence for a moment, somehow, he's lost all his questions, doesn't know where to begin, and what might be too soon. He's also happy she's initiating communication, the board obviously giving her some sense of control and capability. He watches as she writes again. 

_"How long have I been here?"_

_"Well, we rescued you on Monday, and today is Thursday. The 10th of April."_  He adds hesitantly, suddenly not sure if he should be the one telling her all this. He sees her try to understand the date, calculate it against whatever stable information she has in her head. 

" _You've been gone for almost 6 months."_  His voice is low and cracked, he can barely say the words, an overwhelming surge of relief and pain comes over him, he realizes, somewhere inside he wasn't completely sure he'd ever get to talk to her again.

She looks at him as his head sinks between his shoulders, his eyes to the ground, as he tries to overcome something inside him. He startles when he feels a light push against his shoulder, finds her leaning towards him and poking him with the pen to get his attention. She points to the board. 

 _"Am I a prisoner here?"_  he's dumbfounded by the question; how could she think that? But then his eyes fall on the restraints and he tries to see it from her perspective. 

" _No, you're not a prisoner, the ties were for your safety, for your own good, and hopefully won't be needed again"_  he lifts his eyes to hers in question and goes on  _"You're at the hospital in Camp Bastion, still in Afghanistan. You'll be here for the first part of your recovery, and when you're stable enough they'll move you back home to the UK."_

They sit in silence for a while, processing the information flowing between them. Then he remembers he hasn't asked the most basic question  _"How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"_  

A small smile flashes at him and she writes  _"Everything"_  and then she adds,  _"but I'll live."_  

He's grateful for her honesty, and for the seemingly returning sense of humor, he doesn't know where she brings it from or how she does it, he finds himself in awe yet again. 

He watches her write again, her green eye widening at him as she raises the board to show him,  _"What's your name?"_

_"Charles, Captain Charles James. Charles."_

The next thing she writes takes him by surprise, sends his heart fluttering,  _"Thank you, Charles"._  

He wants to laugh and cry and skip and yell all at the same time, he can barely stay seated.  _"There is no need to thank me, Molly. It was my pleasure. You have no idea."_  The last sentence escaping under his breath, but she hears it, a quizzical look in her eyes.

Looking at her, he sees tiredness setting in, the communication taking its toll on her fragile state.

 _"May I come see you again?"_  he asks hopefully, indicating the time has come for him to leave. 

A surge of happiness rushes over him when she nods simply. 

As he gets up to put the chair back in its place, he hears her tapping the pen on the board. She indicates for him to come closer. As he steps closer to the bed, she sits up on her knees to match his height and carefully takes his head in her hands, pulling him closer. He shifts on his feet, his hand clutching at the linen at the edge of the bed, he holds his breath with anticipation at her weird action. She holds his face in place, in front of her, her good eye skimming every detail as if she's trying to learn the features of his face, imprint the image in her head, or maybe recall something she's forgotten. 

He doesn't dare move, though their proximity exhilarates him, sending intoxicating delight through his body, her touch unbearably welcome on his worried heart. A single tear rolling uncontrollably down his cheek catches her by surprise and makes her pull back a bit. But then he sees something go through her mind and across her face, an idea, a thought, a request.

 _"Smile,"_  she croaks almost silently, he's not sure he heard it, but his face reacts of its own, breaking into a wide grin in front of her. He sees its immediate effect on her, as her lips imitate his, her green eye sparkling, a calmness washing over her face. He makes a note of it, saving it in his memory, promising himself to smile at her every time. 

With a small look of content, she folds herself back onto the bed, indicating he should go. 

He stops at the door, one hand on the doorknob, and turns to take one more look at her. She waves a small wave with her hand, and he mimics her without thought. Then he points at the cup on her tray, shooting her a meaningful look, and turns and closes the door behind him.


	5. Reassurance

_"Why doesn't she remember?"_  

The question running through his head since their last meeting finally prompted him to action, he sits in front of the psychologist responsible for her case, hoping to find some answers to the worries picking at his mind.  _"It's been a week, and she doesn't seem to recall anything."_

He looks at the calm face before him, regretting the slight tone of blame ringing through his words. 

_"That's right, it's only been a week."_  Dr. Stravinsky answers, seemingly unmoved.  _"These things take time, sometimes a lot of time."_  

She looks at him, trying to read his firm expression.

_"But why can't she remember?"_

_"Well, it's hard to say really. Yet, anyway. I've had very little time with her. But, there doesn't seem to be any physical damage to the head or the brain. My assumption would be it is an emotional reaction. But, I cannot really relay any details, unless you have proper clearance -"_

_"I do."_  He cuts in, ready for this question, wanting more answers.  _"Her mother has cleared me NOK as long as we, she is here. I have clearance for her medical situation."_  He sneaks a look to see if she's caught on to the slip of his tongue. If she has, she doesn't show it _._

_"That may be, but as her psychologist, there will still be things I won't be able to talk about. Doctor-patient confidentiality, I'm sure you're aware of that."_  She keeps a straight face, though her curiosity is piqued by the unusual situation, and the predilection she seems to read under his tone. 

_"Of course. But what do you mean by an emotional reaction?"_  he asks before she can place any questions about their situation.

_"In cases like this, cases of trauma, physical and psychological, the brain has different ways to protect itself. I cannot yet tell you the exact case here, but there are two options. Either it's a tactic of the brain to shield her from what happened, meaning once the brain recognizes safety it blocks out whatever happened prior to that. In these cases, memory comes back eventually, when the mind has had time to process and deal with the trauma._

_"Or, the more complicated case would be, that in order to protect herself during physical abuse and interrogation, she has made herself forget anything that may have been important to her before; thinking if she does not have access to it, her capturers won't either. These cases are trickier and might take more time to recover, but may also mean that some things are lost, some things she will have to re-learn from scratch. It may also be a combination of the two, it's too early to say."_  

She sees the worry take over his features, his face slightly draining of color. " _May I ask, what your relations are? Why are you so involved in this?"_

He considers his answer shortly, not sure how much to reveal, what would be too much information, what would endanger their chances _. "I was her Captain during her first tour here. She came to my unit as a replacement medic."_  He decides to cut his answer short, his words hanging in the air. 

_"Is that all?"_  Stravinsky asks knowingly, sensing there is more than he is letting on. 

_"I'm going to need some of that Doctors-Patient confidentiality"_  he tries the waters to see if she can be trusted with any more details. 

_"I cannot promise you that."_  She says matter-of-factly, but then a thought comes to her mind and she adds  _"How about you tell me what it is and we'll go from there. If there is no harm in it for private Dawes, I don't see a reason for me to report anything."_  

They shortly engage in a quiet staring match, each assessing the other. Finally, Charles inhales and begins _, "We became rather close during that first tour. We kept the required professional relations while we were there. Nothing happened. At the end of that tour, we were on a mission that went awry, and I and another soldier from the section were injured._   _He was a very close friend to Dawes, and he later died of a brain hemorrhage, in the UK after we returned._

_"Dawes was the medic on site during the shooting, she took care of both of us, kept us alive, made sure we made it back home."_  He stops to breathe; he'd never told that so plainly to anyone. He raises his eyes to see her waiting for him to continue, something telling her there is more.  _"When I was released from the hospital, we began a personal relationship. She was transferred to another section and was no longer under my command. I was, anyway, on leave during my rehabilitation. But then Smurf, well that's what we called him, the other soldier that got shot, well, he died and that complicated things between us for a while._

_"Then she came back from her second tour, and we... well, we were figuring it all out. We only had six months together before her third tour, before she was..."_  he can't say it, can't say any more. He feels like his insides are spread on the carpet in front of him, up for examination. His throat dry, he can feel his blood pulsing at his neck and through his temples.

She surveys him for a short while, taking it all in, prioritizing the questions in her head. She chooses to offer him some support, seeing he has shared with her something private and delicate. She wants to keep him talking, keep the trust he gave her, understanding he might eventually play a bigger role in Dawes' rehabilitation. 

_"It must have been hard for you as well, her being taken,"_ she remarks calmly, trying to read his reaction. But his face is sealed again, any sign of emotion concealed behind a hard jaw; the captain in him covering for any sign of weakness. 

She tries another approach;  _"How did you come to be the one to bring her out? You said she wasn't under your command anymore."_  

Her question is direct but without blame or reproach. He blushes lightly.  _"I pulled a lot of strings. Persuaded Major Beck I was fully recuperated, that I knew her better than anyone in the field, and would be invaluable to the recovery mission."_  She looks at him and he feels she can read right through him " _I basically wouldn't take no for an answer. Might have threatened to leave and do it rogue, if he didn't let me join the rescue force."_

A small smile forms on her lips and disappears immediately.  _"Well, you're going to have to hear and accept 'no' if you want to continue being in touch with her during her healing process. 'No' from her and the occasional "no" from me as well."_  

He opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him, holding her hand open between them.  _"I understand she's important to you. I can't say I like the emotional involvement we're dealing with here, it is to a point unprofessional, but, I can see what it means to you, and I don't think you'll knowingly bring harm to her, so I'll allow it. Your connection might even be helpful to her at times._

_"But you're going to have to work with me, listen to and accept my orders, even if you_   _disagree. They are orders. As the psychologist overseeing her case, I pull rank here. If that's acceptable to you, we can go on."_  

She waits for his reaction and receives one solid affirmative nod.  _"And I want you in here once a week, for a session."_  She doesn't leave any room for question. 

His eyes darken as he contemplates it, trying to quickly calculate how many weeks are left until she's sent back to the UK. He has a feeling Stravinsky isn't one to back off during a negotiation. He nods again, somewhat reluctant but without adding a word.  _"Good. Then I think we're done for now."_  She takes a long look at him and turns to her computer, letting him know he can find his own way out.

When he doesn't move, she turns her attention back to him  _"Is there anything else?"_

_"What should I tell her? Should I even tell her? Last time we talked, I told her what day it was, and I wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do, that she could take it..."_  He suddenly feels extremely young and helpless, hoping for someone to tell him what to do. 

_"From my short acquaintance with her, she's stronger than you think."_  He nods in agreement, her words reflecting what he already knows.  _"There is no right and wrong here. If she asks, I suggest you tell her the truth, in as much as you're comfortable with. Remember it's about her, not you. Otherwise, try and make her feel safe and out of harm. And give her time. Lots of time."_  

He keeps on nodding, registering her every word to his memory, deriving confidence from it. At last, he stands up from the chair, ready to leave. Then she adds,  _"And my door is always open, if you have any questions or uncertainties, just come by."_  She smiles a small smile of reassurance.

" _Thank you,"_  he says sincerely,  _"I will."_


	6. Refurbishing

_"Dawes_?" 

He knocks and opens the door simultaneously, keeping his eyes down, in case she isn't decent. But when he raises his eyes at the silence, the room is empty. The bed unmade and there is no sign of her. 

A rush of panic runs through him as he stands there, trying to think what might have happened, where she might be. Then the door opens and she appears behind him, sitting in a wheelchair, with Margi at her back. 

She's wearing a hospital robe, and slippers, her hair wet and messy, a towel hanging around her neck. She stops abruptly and smiles at him, surprise and joy in her eyes, both now bare from bandages. He smiles down at her, pushing back the temptation to throw his hands around her, and through her freshly washed hair. 

 _"Aha, a visitor, lovely. You think you might let us through into the room? I do have other patients to attend to."_   Margi's words are quick but good-natured. He moves awkwardly out of the way and lets them through, following with his eyes as Margi wheels Molly to the bed and helps her climb in. Margi then lifts the wet towel from her neck and goes to hang it over the fabric division. 

 _"Well, if you don't need anything else, Molly, I'll be off._ " 

Molly nods her head, and mouths a ' _Thank you'_  towards her. Margi turns towards the door, the chair pushed in front of her, but comes face to face with Charles, rooted in his place between the door and the bed. " _You glued then, James? I do believe you've come further than that already before. Come on, let us through. There you go,"_  she nudges him slightly out of the way, murmuring something incomprehensible under her breath.

.

 _"Hi"_  Molly finally whispers, when the room is quiet. 

 _"Hi,"_  he answers lightly, almost whispering himself, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment and surprise at Margi's directness.  _"How are you feeling?"_  he asks carefully, and she nods at him, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, her eyes curiously moving to the bag in his hand. 

 _"I've brought you something,"_  he says, holding the bag up towards her. She reaches up, surprise in her eyes, but the distance between them is too great, she cannot reach the bag. He carefully steps closer, until the bag reaches her hand, but then continues to set it next to her on the bed, afraid it may be too heavy for her.

 Once the bag is beside her, her head dips in, she curiously pulls out the articles hidden inside it – combat pants, t-shirts, a lightweight jacket – the basic clothing for a soldier on tour. She peeks inside the bag to find some underwear and socks, a light flush rises in her eyes.

 _"I thought you might like some clothes,"_  he says, trying to fill the silence and make her feel at ease. Her eyes twinkle at him and a smile spreads across her face, her head nodding slightly.

 _"Thank you"_  she whispers to him. She then begins to climb off the bed but grimaces in pain as she reaches the ground, stabilizing herself against the bed. He instinctively starts towards her, stopping himself before he gets too close. 

 _"What is it, Molly? Tell me what you need"._  

She takes a few breaths and points to the screen, and then to the bag. He realizes, she wanted privacy to get dressed.  _"I'll wait outside,"_  he half asks half declares carefully, wishing not everything would so complicated all the time. 

" _No, no,"_  she says hurriedly before he can move,  _"I think I'll need help. Can you help me?"_  she whispers to him, her eyes huge with distress, her cheeks flushed. 

He nods instinctively, without thinking about what it means, but he remains where he is, not daring to move. 

She waves a finger at him, signaling for him to come closer. He feels like he's floating on air towards her, finally stopping in front of her, less than a foot between them. She put her hands on his arms and balances herself against him.  _'A little bit like dancing'_  he thinks and a smile flutters on his lips.

 _"Can you close your eyes?"_  she asks quietly, and he looks at her for a moment, reading the anticipation in her eyes as she bites her lip. 

He closes his eyes and waits for her to tell him what to do. She reaches for the bag and takes the trousers, holding them, by the rim, against his hands, waiting for him to replaces her hands with his. His trained fingers slide into the fabric, pulling it open for her like you do for a small child. And just the same, he feels her balancing against his shoulders. Only he is too tall, and she lightly presses down on his shoulders for him to crouch down before her.  _"Lower"_  she requests, unable to lift her leg so high, due to the pain in her abdomen.  _"Lower"_  she laughs bashfully, his hands almost on the ground. But then he feels her weight as she slowly lifts her leg and places it into the sleeve of the pants. And then again as she succeeds in repeating it with the other leg. 

 _"Up,"_  she says, once she's ready, both legs in place and on the ground. He slowly pulls the fabric up her legs, trying as much as he can, with his eyes still closed, not to break the trust she's giving in him and allow his fingers to stroke her skin. 

When the pants are at waist height, her hands meet his, taking the fabric from him, she does up the zipper and fastens the Velcro strap. He stands back up in front of her, slowly opening his eyes.

 _"Wait. One more"_  she says, motioning her hand to cover his eyes. But he closes them before she reaches up. She delicately brings his hands to the sides her hospital gown, slowly raising her hands, the pull of her limbs causing a rush of pain. She grunts and huffs at it, easing the tension of her stretched arms.  _"Up"_  she grunts out, fighting against the pain. 

As he begins to pull at the fabric, it catches against her bent elbows, causing another rush of pain, and stalling the process. He tries to stop, tugging down at the fabric, confusing the direction and the process. She tries to wriggle against the gown, but its length just gets more entangled, causing more pain, a groan leaves her lips. 

 _"Wait, wait, stop"_  he tries and calm her down,  _"Molly, stop,"_  his eye still closed,  _"let me"_. 

He opens his eyes, finding her to be extremely close to him, caught between his arms and the bed, entangled in the thin fabric. He looks directly into her eyes, silently promising her he's not looking at her body, as his hands release the fabric around her waist, guiding one elbow out and then another. 

She shivers as the air touches her bare skin under the raised gown. He circles his hands around her, tugging the gown up her back, and over her head, she bends her head down and back, raising it free, her arms holding the gown in place at her front, keeping her semi-covered. 

He smiles a small smile at their success, his eyes never leaving hers, as he sends a hand to the pile of shirts on the bed beside her. He then repeats the process in reverse, first easing her head through the neck opening, and then her hands one by one, the other still holding the gown at her front. 

Finally, dressed, she lets the gown fall on the bed, panting lightly at their effort, she then pulls herself to sit on the bed, her hands on his arms again. She takes one of his hands in hers, bringing it close to her face, lightly pressing her forehead against it, her eyes closed as she calms her breathing.  _"_ _Thank you"_  she whispers again, her eyes still closed, her head down. 

Though she really is grateful, she finds it a bit ridiculous, how many times she's used the word now, never in her life has she been so polite. A small giggle escapes her lips, and she raises her head to find him curious at her amusement.  _"I need to find new things to say to you,"_  she tries to explain, letting go of his hand.

When he takes a step back to look at her, it's his turn to blush. He had sneaked one of his t-shirts in between the things he'd brought her; the idea of her having something of his, even without knowing, brought him comfort and excitement. Now she sat in front of him, her hands open at her sides, proudly showing him her outfit, not knowing it was his T-shirt she was wearing. He can't help but notice again, she's thinner than she was before, his long shirt hanging around her waist even looser than it used to. But she doesn't seem to care, she seems comfortable in the large size, and he feels a warm tug at the sight of her delight. 

 _"_ _I hope it fits, I had to kind of guess all your sizes when I went to get them. The private there looked at me like I was some sort of pervert, asking for female clothing."_  They both chuckle together at the thought. 

 _"Your reputation is ruined forever"_ she banters back, not knowing her words touch a cord inside him, he keeps a smile on his face, only a small sliver of worry running behind his eyes.

 _"You up for one more surprise?"_  he asks to change the subject.

 _"Wait,"_  she says softly,  _"that was a bit more than I was prepared for,"_  her small voice getting hoarse at the end of the sentence  _"give me just a moment, okay?"_  she says as she lays back on the bed, her head on the pillow.

 _"All the time you need, Dawes."_  She still looks small against the bed, though her clothes and skin are not as white as before.  _"You want me to go?"  
_

_"No, stay."_  She points at the chair,  _"Just, give me a minute,"_  she closes her eyes as he pulls the chair closer, taking a seat. She quickly dozes off, her breath light and raspy, one arm sticking out the bed frame in his direction. He sits there looking at her, listening to her breathing, grateful for the chance to be with her again, no matter how slow it must be, he can wait for her. He carefully raises his hand to hers, taking it lightly in his, brushing his thumb against her healing knuckles. 


	7. Revealing

_"Hi,"_  she says softly, opening her eyes, her voice still groggy with sleep. 

_"Hi"_  he answers lightly, from the chair beside her bed. 

_"How long have I slept?"_

_"_ _About 15 minutes"_

_"And what have you been doing? Have you been watching me sleep, you perv?"  
_

He blushes, and a worried expression covers both their faces. A silence falls between them until Molly breaks it with an earnest question.  _"What are you actually doing here? You've brought me out, made sure I was alive, your duty must be over. So what are you doing here?"_  Suddenly she's very serious; A weird fear clinging to her rib cage. She can't read his intentions, though his actions have been pure and kind; He's been nothing but caring and helpful, but something prevents her suddenly from trusting.

_"I,"_  he looks at her, trying to form an answer, surprised by the sudden change and directness she's woken up with. Relieved he may have the possibility to clarify some things, afraid of what the revelation might bring.  _"You don't remember me from before, do you? Before the day I brought you out?"_  

She looks at him intently, thoughts going through her mind as she shakes her head slowly from side to side. Then she waits for him to explain. 

He shifts in his chair, all of a sudden very insecure, remorse and worry written over his face, he wipes his palms on his combats. She realizes she prefers him when he smiles, suddenly unsure she wants to hear what he's gonna say, unready for the truth. Maybe ignorance is bliss after all?

_"I, we,"_  he begins, and then falls quiet again, considering. Whatever it is, he decides against it and sets to tell her what she's asked for.  _"I was your commanding officer on your first tour in Afghan, you came to my section as a replacement medic."_  He searches her face for any signs of recollection, all he sees is confusion, her eyes plead him for more information.  _"We were here almost six months together, our mission was to secure a village from a Taliban cell to allow the children to go back to school, and enable the girls to receive education as well."_  

He checks again, her eyes now hard with concentration.  _"You got involved with a small girl named Bashira. Her father turned out to be Taliban and we had to extract her, send her to a safe house in Kabul. She went to school there. You later went to see her, on your second tour."_  

Her eyes widen, her head nodding slowly, some memory forming in her mind, she gasps, her hands going up to her lips. _"There was a man, an Afghan. He worked as an interpreter"_  she looks at him for confirmation, amazed to find memories she hadn't realized she'd lost.

_"Quaseem,"_  he lets the name roll from his lungs, relieved that something has come back.  _"Quaseem was our translator. You two became really close; He's the one that took you to see Bashira in Kabul."_  

He doesn't know if he should go on, how much he should reveal or if he wants to confront the next part. But the words come out of him; his curiosity, if she'll remember any of it, the loneliness he's been bottling in, getting the better of him. _"On our last mission, we went to try and stop Bashira's father from crossing into Kabul and reaching her. We waited for the truck carrying him, and stopped him at a checkpoint. It was your job to search the truck and identify him among the passengers. B_ _ut he was armed and opened fire, and two of us were shot_." 

"Smurf!" she cuts in, a flash recollection hitting her, her hand raising to her left arm, mimicking his injury _. "I knew him from basic"._

_"Yes, that's right."_  he tries to keep calm, not reveal the jealousy eating at him as she remembers her friend but not him.  _"Smurf and I were shot, and you charged in and made sure we came out alive."_  his voice low, almost a whisper, as he tries to overcome the memories he's voicing  _"You wouldn't let us give up. You treated us both simultaneously as if you had four arms, or,"_  he notices he's rambling, unable to look at her, he stops midsentence and waits for her reaction, yet it catches him by surprise. 

_"Show me."_  

He raises his eyes to her in question, unsure he heard correctly, unsure she meant it, unsure of anything. But the look in her eyes is fierce and sharp, she quickly scans his body as if trying to assess where he'd been shot. Then she directs and unequivocal stare into his eyes, challenging.

It's as if he's gone into automatic mode, filling an order; He stands up in front of her slowly undoing his jacket and pulling up his undershirt to reveal the scar decorating his abdomen, his mind blank and detached. 

He's brought back by her touch on his skin; She's leaning forward, her arm stretched towards him, her fingers fluttering lightly across the scar. 

He gasps uncontrollably, confused and excited by the contact, a breathy but charged  _"Molly,"_  escaping his lips, his fingers let go of the fabric. She pulls her hand back so quickly as if bitten but her eyes remain glued to his stomach, as though she sees it now through the fabric.

He tucks his undershirt back in, doing up his jacket, gaining back some of his dignity and posture. 

It's then the door swings open and Margi's voice fills the room, oblivious to the tension she's interrupting.  _"Visiting hour are over, James. I'll be back in 5, and you, will not be here."_  She doesn't even wait for a response, letting the door close behind her. 

The two heads lash back in each other's direction, their eyes locking with confusion. Charles is the first to come to his senses;  _"Molly, please say something,"_  his voice is riddled with fear, he can't read her and suddenly feels completely out of control, the situation having flipped sideways and up, he's not sure how to continue.  _"_

_I think you better go,"_  she says quietly, not looking at him. 

_"Molly,"_  he tries again. 

_"Leave."_  her voice is colder than she meant, but she's holding on with all she has; everything she thought she knew suddenly pulled from under her. 

He stands there another moment, shattered, confused, sad. Everything he didn't want has happened in the short time since she's woken up. It's unfair and petrifying, his legs feel heavy, rooted in place. But he doesn't want to upset her any more, Stravinsky's words ringing in his ears as the guilt of failure washes over him.

As he reaches the door, he turns back again, carefully voicing the question, though he's not sure he can survive a negative answer.  _"May I come back to see you?"_  he watches her for a moment, frozen on the bed, not looking at him, not addressing him or his question. Reluctantly, he steps out the room, closing the door quietly behind him.


	8. Regression

_"Hey, Molly, how we doing this evening? You ready for supper?"_  

As promised, Margi comes back shortly after Charles has left. She finds Molly sitting on the bed, engulfed in thoughts.  _"Molly?"_  she tries to wake the girl back to reality but gets no response. " _Okay, always nice to be ignored, makes one feel that much more appreciated."_  

 

She busies herself around the room for another couple of minutes, only then realizing that Molly has yet to move or acknowledge her presence. Concerned, she goes to face Molly.  _"Molly dear, you feeling okay?"_  

When Molly still doesn't respond, Margi touches her lightly, taking her wrist to check her pulse, then holds Molly's face between her hands, looking to see pupil reaction. It is then that Molly releases a thought.  _"Why am I here?"_

Margi looks at Molly with surprise, unsure to what extent she's directing her question. Is this a practical question of a soldier wanting to go home, or is she now facing an existential crisis that will drag into the night?  _"What do you mean honey? You're at the hospital in Bastion, we're taking care of your injuries."_  Margi answers delicately, deciding on the direct and grounded approach. As much as she's fond of Molly, it's been a long day, and she'd rather not venture into musing about probability and chance.

_"Yes, I know, but why am I still here, why am I not being shipped back home? When can I go home?"_  

_'Ahh, practical, good.'_  Margi thinks and musters a small smile _. "That's not really up to me to say, it's up to your doctors and commanding officer."_

_"_ _Charles?"_  Molly's eyes grow big and her voice rises, a blush comes to her cheek and a crease appears between her eyebrows. Margi curiously notices all this before answering to calm the soldier down, trying to make sense of the girl's confusion.

_"No. James isn't your commanding officer. He's the captain that brought you out."_ She pauses to read Molly's reaction but sees none.  _"Molly, you have an appointment with Dr. Stravinsky in the morning, you can talk about this then. For now, you should eat your supper and try and rest. This stress isn't doing you any good."_  

_"He just told me, he was my captain during my first tour, did you know that?"_  

Margi shakes her head, seeing Molly's distress but also beginning to be intrigued by the information she's being exposed to. In her head, she replays Charles' reactions to seeing Molly tied down, his concern and trepidation as he entered the room.  _"You didn't know that? You don't remember him?"_  she asks carefully, treading grounds reserved for higher ranking medical personnel. It's Molly's turn to shake her head, searching Margi's features for answers. 

_"Well, I don't about all that, do I. I just know what I see. He's been here more than any other visitor I've ever encountered, definitely not customary to army regulations._

_"Some days when you're asleep, he just sits in the hall and waits, like a guard dog before your door. And from what I've seen, when he's in here, he's been incredibly patient and considerate. You guys seem to get along and talk for hours."_  Molly nods in agreement, thinking over Margi's words.  _"Then, hon, do you have any reason to doubt him? Has he done anything to hurt you?"_  Molly shakes her head, confusion filling her eyes with tears.  _"Okay, okay,"_  Margi gives her shoulder a squeeze. 

_"Tell you what, tomorrow, after your session with Stravinsky, if you're up for it, how 'bout I take you outside? Some fresh, dusty, desert air, at 40˚C, is bound to do you some good. What do think, does that sound good?"_  Molly has to giggle at that, understanding Margi's gesture of good will, she nods her head.  _"Good, now try and eat something. I won't make you eat it all tonight, but choose something off the tray so I know there something in you. And get some rest, yeah? Let's help you to bed."_  She then helps Molly lay back and arranges the covers for her. 

As she straightens the last crease and is ready to leave, Molly grabs her by the hand and gives it a squeeze,  _"Thank you."_

_"_ _Ah, that's better."_  Margi says smiling,  _"Now eat."_


	9. Reflecting

After tossing and turning all night, unsuccessful at quietening the jumble in her head, Molly opens her eyes and acknowledges: she is angry. It's an anger like she's never known before, it consumes her entire body, felt in every organ; it burns in her stomach, it pounds in her head, pings and stings in her legs, it makes her lips dry and her nostrils flare, it makes her eyes water and her hands shake. 

It is the anger of Helplessness. She feels small and in the dark, she feels tricked and controlled and captured and she doesn't understand. Things do not make sense, logic does not add up and too many questions remain unanswered, bashing noisily through her mind. She bites her tongue to avoid screaming, but the air trapped in her lungs burns the tears into her eyes, the thought of breakfast makes her nauseous, the walls close in, the physical pain she felt yesterday evaporates into the pain of necessity pushing out against her skin. She feels like she's gonna pop.

...

9:30 does not come fast enough, the downpour of her questions begins the moment she's wheeled into Dr. Stravinsky's office, even before she reaches the sofa. 

_"Why am still here?"_ she demands  _"Why have I not been sent back to the UK? When can I go home? What about my parents? Who is my commanding officer? Why does Captain James have access to my case? Why can't-"_

_"Private Dawes, calm down"_  Dr. Stravinsky tries to control the situation, taken by surprise by the obvious change in the soldier in front her. 

_"No. Don't tell me to calm down. I've had enough of people trying to calm me down and control my feelings. I know what I've been through, what I survived. You think the memories go away, just because you lot want me to stay calm? You think the nightmares care if I'm calm or upset? Give me some answers!"_

_"Are you done?"_  Stravinsky keeps her cool, her voice taking on an authoritative, somewhat patronizing tone, that drives Molly into a rage. She pants with anger but keeps her mouth shut, her green eyes ablaze towards the doctor in front of her.  _"Molly,"_  Stravinsky starts again calmly,  _"I am here to help you. We are all here to help you. We are all on your side. But, this is still the army, there are still rank and regulations to follow, and you will respect them in this office. Otherwise, I won't be able to help you._

_"I will listen to all your questions and try and answer as best I can, but you have to help me out here. Are we clear?"_  Molly can only nod silently, afraid to lose control.  _"Now, as to why you are still here at Bastion, there are three reasons,"_  Stravinsky pauses shortly to take Molly in, noticing her attentiveness and vigilance. Her green eyes awaken something deep inside the doctor, but she pushes the distraction away, focusing on the troubled soldier in front of her. 

_"The first is we wanted to give you time to heal; the magnitude of your wound requires time, and though you could technically pass this time in the medical facility at Headley court, there are two other reasons to keep you here. One, and this is the main reason, though it is too soon to talk about, is that Major Morley has requested your help in identifying some of your capturers, once you feel ready of course,-"_  

Molly inhales sharply, the thought striking her like a hot iron. Her eyes grow with fear and disbelief.

_"Molly?"_

_"What's the other one?"_  she whispers, unable to fathom what is expected from her. 

Stravinsky looks at her briefly, her eyes squinting as she begins again. " _Well, word of your rescue has come out back home, it might get quite noisy and invasive, we'd thought it would make it easier for you to begin your healing process here, away from reporters and cameras. Let things die down a bit over there."_  Molly takes it all in, incapable of imaging being the center of such attention. They both fall silent for a while, Molly processing the new information, while Stravinsky assesses Molly.

_"Why can't I speak to my mum?"_  Molly finally asks, fighting the tears down. Stravinsky is taken by surprise. 

_"You can. Haven't you? I thought Captain James would have made the connection by now."_  

With the sound of his name, Molly ignites again, fire rising in her eyes.  _"Why does he have contact with my mother? Who is he? Why can't I remember him?"_  though her tone is fierce, there's fear hidden in her voice, a shudder going up her spine. She wishes to be enraged but finds there is some other feeling lurking behind her frustration. 

Stravinsky watches her closely, noticing the thoughts flashing behind her eyes.  _"What's going on Molly?"_  she asks calmly, her voice offering consolation as well as encouragement. But Molly isn't sure. She stays silent, locking her thoughts inside.  _"Molly, we're both here for you, this is your process and we'll go at your pace."_  Stravinsky takes a beat to see the effect of her words on Molly.  _"What is it you are asking?"_

_"Who is he?"_  Molly decides to go with the easier question first, shifting the focus from herself, to try and find more information. But Stravinsky answers with a question.

" _What has he told you? What do you know?"_

_"I know he's the one that brought me out, I know he's been visiting me ever since. But yesterday he told me he was my captain during my first tour here, which means I've known him for two years. He says I saved his life on that tour."_  She looks up expectantly, to see the doctor's reaction, but Stravinsky's face is blank and calm.

_"Is that all you know?"_  she asks.

_"Why? Is there more?"_

Stravinsky tightens her jaw, regretting the slip of her tongue  _"That's for him to tell you, that's between the two of you."_  She tries to settle the boundaries back into the conversation  _"Let's talk about how you feel."_

_"About him?"_  Molly cuts in, wondering if the doctor could sense the excitement lining her voice, or was it only her confused heart hearing things.

_"If you want, yes,"_  comes the doctor's stealthy answer, forcing Molly to face her own admission. She searches inside her, unable to put her jumbled thoughts into words. Stravinsky comes to her aid, " _You said he's visited?"_  

Molly nods.  _"Hmm, he was there just after I woke up, and then again a few days ago, and yesterday he brought me a pair of combats to wear. And he sat with me while I dozed off. And Margi the nurse says he sits there when I sleep, outside my door."_  She raises her eyes, to see if the doctor shares any of her thoughts on the matter, but she can't read past the poker face in front of her. It boils her blood.

_"And how does all that make you feel?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Molly,"_

_"Safe."_ The word surprises her, as she says it.  _"I, I fell asleep yesterday for like 15 minutes when he was there, and I think it's the best I've slept since I got here. It's like, my body and brain are constantly on; ready; alert. Like, that's how I had to be there, you know? Listening for any sound of movement, of conversation, of breath, ready to kick and fight if anyone came close."_  Molly's eyes are directed at the doctor, but it's as if she looking past her, her eyes glazed, her speech automatic, as if she's not noticing she's talking.  _"And then, when he comes in, it's like my body knows, on its own, that's it safe to let go, to let him come near."_  She wakes up from her musing, restless from her confession, feeling exposed and guilty. She tries to change the balance again  _"Why can't I remember who he is?"_

_"I will answer that soon, though it's not an easy answer, but, I want you to hear me first when I say, you are safe here Molly, every feeling you feel, is legitimate and we are here to deal with them as they come._   _It's okay to think and feel anything that you're feeling, be it anger or fear or excitement, it's okay. I don't want you to feel guilty about any of it, it is all part of the process."_  Molly nods slowly, letting the words sink in, accurately touching on what she's feeling.  _"Now, as for your question. Looking at your test results, and we've run every possible one, there doesn't seem to be any physical damage to your brain. That means, stop me when this gets too much ok, that means any problems you're experiencing with memory, are psychosomatic, as a result of the trauma you've undergone. That doesn't mean it's not real. It only means, we can't treat it with medication or science. This is an emotional and cognitive process, of working through the trauma."_

_"But why can I remember some things and some things not?"_

_"Well, there's no one answer to this, it differs from case to case, we also don't know yet the extent of what you can and cannot remember; but, you actually shed some light on things today and canceled out one possibility. I understand from you, you do have a recollection of what you've been through, of your captivity?"_  she looks at Molly, seeing her eyes darken with the memories, a shield coming over her as her body tightens in place, her jaw clamping violently.  _"Molly, look at me."_  Molly's eyes find her own,  _"You know where you are, you know who I am, you know you're safe."_  Her voice is steady and calm but direct, and it succeeds to reach past the invisible wall erected around Molly. She nods at the woman in front of her.

_"I think that's enough for today, why don't I call for the nurse to take you back to your room."_

_"No,"_  Molly's voice is stern and unyielding  _"I want to know. Tell me why I can't remember."_

Stravinsky considers her next move, assessing how it will effect Molly, but there is something in Molly's voice and in her eyes, that tells her that straightforwardness and truth are the way to go with Molly.  _"It would seem, that during your captivity, you've made yourself forget somethings, in order to protect, either yourself or information you thought could be of interest to your capturers."_  She takes a breath and goes on, looking for reactions in the young soldier in front of her. " _Things concerning your service, past events, information, people you cared about, anything that was of importance to you, that could be used as a weakness, you've willfully deleted, as a method of protection."_

Molly takes her time digesting this, going over things in her head, one thought rising clearer above the rest,  _"So, I don't remember him because he was so important?"_  she wonders quietly at the connection between her brain and her heart, hardly noticing the other woman in the room.

_"Captain James? Mm, it seems so, yes."_  After a short pause, Stravinsky says,  _"I'm sorry to say our time really is up now, we can continue this tomorrow if you'd like."_  She tries to stay formal and professional, thankful for dry words of regulation enabling her to cover the feelings stirring inside. She finds she's uneasy with the attachment Dawes is portraying to the captain, unsure, though, if her discontent is a professional or a personal one.


	10. Recess

_"So, how are we feeling?"_   A somewhat worried Margi tries to sound calm and cool as she pushes the wheelchair down the corridor from Dr. Stravinsky's office.  _"You ready to venture into the sun? or we headed back to bed?"_

_"Sun."_  Molly answers without hesitance. 

_"Glad to hear it."_  Margi directs the chair in the direction of the front door, some pep added to her step. She throws something into Molly's lap.  _"Here put this on your scrawny white face, wouldn't want you to get sunburned, desert and all."_  she tries to let slide the circumstances both women know lie behind the need for sunscreen.  _"Oh, and here I found these for you. I will need them back, though."_  she hands Molly a pair of big black sunglasses. 

_"You ready?"_  They stop short of the glass doors, the sun already sneaking into the entrance hall, Molly can feel the warmth already. 

_"How do I look?"_  she asks playfully, exhibiting the glasses on her nose, glad for the opportunity to remain somewhat hidden behind them. 

_"Well protected."_  comes Margi's cheeky answer as she pushes through the doors.

Bright and warm the sun cradles Molly, the heat engulfing her like a second skin and then seeping slowly in. She closes her eyes enjoying the feeling. Though she's fully clothed and protected, for the first time in her life she understands the figurative use of sunbathing. She can't seem to remember the last time she'd been outside, not sure she wants to try and calculate it, wishing she could just let go and disappear, forget herself and everything she has to deal with, and just, sunbake. 

It reminds her of her childhood, climbing to the roof of their tenement, wearing almost nothing, hopeful to get a few hours of extreme heat to wash away the endless winter. She'd steal her mum's mags and later her dad's beer and disappear for a couple of hours. It was her place. The height and desolation of the roof allowing for some privacy, when the flat got too tight. Just like on the roof, the noise around brings her back to reality. She opens her eyes to see a section of soldiers running by, a morning PT before the temperatures rise too high. 

As she looks around her, taking in the life vibrating around the base, her eyes land on the tall figure standing in front of her, keeping a comfortable distance but also waiting for her to acknowledge him and allow him to come near. 

Unconcerned by the tension between them, or perhaps very perceptive of it, Margi addresses him before Molly can decide how to react and what she wants to have happen.  _"Ah, James, coming to see us then? Fancy that! Good, you can take over here, while I go back inside. Even rounds beat this god awful heat, no offense Molly."_

_"Only if Dawes is comfortable with that"_  he replies, his voice stable but his eyes filled with question. 

_"Molly? You'll be alright here for a bit, won't you?"_  Confused, Molly nods lightly, not taking her eyes off Charles, though he can't see them due to the dark glasses.

_"_ _Good. Then, James, take over. Not too long in the sun, though, and make sure she drinks some water."_  She says stepping back from the handles of the wheelchair, lightly squeezing Charles' shoulder as he comes to replace her.  _"You be good now Molly,"_  she teases lightly as she goes back inside, her sigh faintly audible as she enjoys the cold air waiting inside.

.

_"So it's you and me then, hey?"_  she says lightly, her voice playful yet unsure. 

_"Only if you want,"_  he answers earnestly,  _"otherwise, I can..."_

_"No, it's fine"_  she answers plainly, having no energy to make further decisions.  _"I just need... like five minutes of not talking seriously. Like a break. Everything is just too much. If you can give me that, then we'll be fine."_  

She can't see him nodding behind her, a solemn expression on his face _, "So what do you want to do?"_  he asks, sounding more like a young boy than a grown-up trained captain. 

_"Sit in the sun a while,"_  she says, stretching her head back and closing her eyes,  _"I've missed it."_  

He pushes the chair carefully out of the way of the front entrance to the building and finds a place for them in the sun. Not sure what to do next, he stands uncomfortably beside her for a moment shifting his weight from one foot to the other, then folds himself to sit on the ground beside her chair, looking at her as she enjoys the warmth. 

Even with her eyes closed, she can feel his every move _. "Don't stare, perv."_  she says as a smile spreads across her face, knowing he's blushing at her side, his eyes move to focus on something else. 

_"I love the sun. Always have.  Think I was born in the wrong country,"_  she says quietly, not sure why she's telling him this but finding the words better than the uncomfortable silence. She then tells him of her secret childhood hide-out on the roof at West-Ham. When she finishes she opens her eyes to find him smirking to himself.

  _"Oi! no judgment! What you smirking at?!"_  

He shakes his head lightly, gathering his smile, placing his head on his folded knees, turned to her, their eyes almost at the same height.  _"It just makes sense suddenly, that's all."_

_"What does?"_  

He hesitates a moment, wondering if he should tell her; if it won't bring them back to serious topics.  _"You used to hide on the roof of the latrines at the FOB, back on tour. You'd sit there for hours reading your letters from home."_  He wonders if it rings a bell for her,  _"Sometimes Smurf would climb up to sit with you, bring you tea, but you'd eventually kick him down and stay there on your own."_  

She looks him in the eye as he talks, he lets the words flow out, making sure his voice stays calm and pleasant.  _"How do you know that?"_  she asks in wonder, wanting him to go on talking, his calm features relaxing something in her _._

_"It was my job to know, you were under my command. I made sure to know where you were at all times, you had a knack for getting into trouble."_  

SHIT. The implications of his words hit him as they leave his mouth. He raises his head to examine her reaction,  _"Sorry, I didn't mean that in a bad way. It was meant to be a joke, I wasn't..."_  her hand on his arm shuts the words in his mouth. She's quiet, her eyes directed forward and he sees the thoughts flashing through her mind, but she remains calm, distant. 

_"_ _Is that pizza I see there? Can we? Sneak me a slice of pizza and I'll adore you forever,"_  she says quietly, looking back at him, a small smile on her lips. 

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, unsure how aware she is of the words she'd just said, her smile confusing him even more. " _How did.. do you..."_  he decides he doesn't want to know, if it's not because she remembers his request at the FOB, it will break his heart. 

_"_ _Sure."_  He says, rising to his feet,  _"I won't tell Margi if you won't. We need to get you out of the sun anyway, otherwise, she'll have my head."_  They both giggle at that, as he pushes her chair towards the sunshade in front of Pizza-Hut container. 

_"Will you be alright here while I go order?"_  he asks as he parks the chair next to a picnic table in the shade. She nods at him and watches as he walks away, then turns to take in her surroundings.

.

_"Isn't that private Molly Dawes?"_  she hears a male voice not far from her.

_"The soldier who was kidnapped by the Taliban? No way man,"_

_"_ _Yeah, I think it is,"_

_"Wait, let me check,"_  the two young soldiers approach Molly, the one checking his phone and then looking up at Molly.  _"Yeah, it is, it fucking is, fuck me."_  Molly flinches in her chair, unable to escape, confused at how the two strangers know her and what they want. They stand in front of her, silently examining her, then one begins to talk.

_"Private Dawes, it's such an honor. I just wanted to say, you're a hero. Those cocksucking bastards are going to pay for what they did to you. You're a national hero, welcome back."_  

Without waiting for her reaction, he straightens up in place and raises his hand to his temple, saluting her. He then nudges his friend to do the same, the two of them standing there in front of her, waiting for her response. She's so embarrassed, she wishes the ground would open up and swallow her. She wonders what's taking Charles so long, and what she's supposed to do now. 

Their eyes, as they look at her, are full of hope and admiration which she cannot place or identify with. Eventually, she decides to try and get up, wanting to change the balance between them, stop them from pitying her. 

She leans both hands on the metal armrests, setting her feet on the floor and then pushes herself up with an effort, fighting against the pain in her abdomen. She winces with pain but finds her balance, standing in front of the two soldiers not sure what to do next. 

It's then that James' voice thunders through the air, as he arrives holding a carton pizza box.  _"What on earth do you two think you are doing?!"_  

Molly shrinks as if she's the one in trouble. The two young soldiers straighten even more in place, a terrified look replaces the pity in their eyes _. "Dismissed, the two of you. Disappear now, before I put you both on charge and make sure you're on toilet duty for the rest of your tour."_  He barks at the confused soldiers, as he throws the box onto the table.  _"And if either of you even thinks of spreading the word to your sections, I will personally make sure your military careers end at private."_  

The two boys mumble a low  _"Sorry,"_  and make a run for it. Molly has to giggle at the sight, though her smile soon disappears as a worried Charles turns her way. 

"Are y _ou okay? Here, let's get you seated."_  He steps to her side reaching for her arms, but she stops him in his place, her voice hard and cold.

_"Charles. I'm not an invalid. I can sit down on my own."_  

He raises his eyes to her, his hands frozen in mid-air, puzzled at the change in her mood and her reaction.  _"I,"_  he begins but finds he doesn't know what to say. 

She sits down with an effort, wincing with pain, a puff of air leaving her lungs with a groan.  _"Sorry,"_  she says, shifting in the chair to find a position less painful  _"but, you don't have to worry about me so much all the time. It's not your job. And I'm fine."_  

He sits silently across from her, and she can see the pain her words are causing him, she wonders what it is, that makes them so sensitive with one another. _"And I want to speak to my mother."_ Another puzzled look crosses his face, the color draining from his face. She didn't mean for it to sound so harsh but suddenly she can't seem to stop the anger she's feeling, the constant incompetence, everything she's been blocking out. 

He sits in front of her, nodding silently, a guilty look in his eyes. He looks like a schoolboy being reprimanded by his teacher.

_"Let's eat first,"_  she then adds, regretting her harsh tone, her voice now lower and softer. She knows he had only meant to help, that he didn't deserve this reaction or treatment, that she probably seems crazy in his eyes, momentarily switching hot and cold, but everything is too complicated to explain. Everything makes her tired. 

She reaches for the box, opening it to reveal it's round contents _, "Is that all for me? What you gonna eat?"_  she tries to banter her way out of the situation but Charles expression tells her it's not going to be so easy. 

With an effort, he pushes the tips of his lips up to form a smile that does not reach his eyes. Barely looking at her, he takes the slice she's handing him and they sit there in silence and eat.


	11. Remedy

She's sitting there, picking at her pizza, tortured by the silence, she feels she has to break it somehow, before it becomes too dramatic, pulls them apart. That's the one thing she knows; she can't bear the thought of losing him, for now at least, he's the only one that visits her, that she can talk to, that calms her nut and allows her to sleep, and though she doesn't understand it, she doesn't want to give it up. 

_"Look, I'm sorry, it's just,"_  she begins slowly, trying to make peace with him, trying to put some order to her thoughts, make him understand what she's feeling,  _"I don't want you to pity me."_  

_"Molly, that's not,-"_  he tries to defend himself, explain, but she goes on without letting him in.

_"I could see the pity in their eyes and, I, there are just so many black holes... pockets of emptiness, that I can't reach or fill. And I feel like you have the answers, some of them at least and I don't know why; I don't understand. And it makes me feel small and stupid and so, the last thing I need from you is pity."_  

Her eyes are fierce behind her dark shades, he can't see them but he can feel her looking at him, she goes on, determined to break her passivity and voice out her thoughts, take control. 

_"And it's like, on the one hand, I don't want you to have so much power over me. I want to be responsible for me, I want to know who I am and decide what I want, and I don't want everybody to be so fucking careful around me all the time. And on the other hand, I feel like, I need you. You."_  She gestures toward him with her hands.  _"Like you're the one person I feel safe with, I can breath when you're there, but, I don't understand why._

_"I want to choose it, to know it's me choosing it, that it's me, you know? You tell me these memories, moments of who I used to be, and they seem kinda familiar, but also not, like I'm looking into someone else's life like I'm standing outside the window looking in and I wish I could remember, I wish I could tell you, tell me, who I was, but I'm not sure I'm that girl anymore, it may be that they... took her."_

The understanding of what she says hits her only when the words leave her mouth. All her fears suddenly surface, bringing tears with them, her hand rushes up to cover her mouth, she can feel the tears washing down her cheeks, her breathing becoming shallow and quick and there's a pain in her chest that wasn't there before.

_"Molly?"_  

She hears his voice but cannot respond. He sees her distress and doesn't know what to do, how to help and yet keep the distance she's asked for. But she gestures him to come to her, frantically repeating his name between gasps of air. He rushes to the other side of the table, squats next to her chair. Her hand finds his arm, holding on tightly. He sees her try to take control of her breathing, slow it down, take deeper breaths. With her other hand, she takes off her glasses, lets them fall to her lap, she then raises both her arms to him, holding his face before her, her hands finding the pulse point on his neck, her eyes fixing into his, looking for something in them. 

He doesn't know what she needs but doesn't dare move or even blink. Their proximity not lost on him, he fights the thoughts of what he'd like to do. He can't save her, he can only be there at her side, as she comes to terms with what's happening to her; their current situation becoming a perfect parable to the feelings she'd just voiced.

Eventually, her breath calms again, her eyes flickering across his face, an unfiltered thought slips her lips,  _"You are so beautiful."_  It hangs there shortly, between them until she realizes she's still holding him, their proximity, the inappropriateness of what she'd just said. She blushes and apologizes, folds her hands in her lap, fumbling with the glasses she finds there, then places them back on her nose, concealing herself. 

_"Could you take me back to my room, please?"_  her voice is reserved and cautious, but he knows she's trying to regain some posture, understands her need to protect herself. 

He doesn't know what to do or say to make her feel better, safe, comfortable. He wants to tell her how he feels, what an effect her words have on him, how his skin tingles where she touched him. He wants to answer her questions and tell her things but he also wants to respect her needs, her request for time and space. He nods silently and stands up, goes to stand behind the chair, preparing to push it towards her room. But just before he begins, he can't stop himself from bending down, his mouth by her ear, he whispers,  _"You, Molly, are the beautiful one. You take my breath away, every day."_  

And without giving her an opportunity to respond, or protest, he straightens up and pushes her chair across the base and back into the hospital to her room.

.

When they reach her room and she climbs onto the bed, her legs dangling over the side, the silence is weird again. They both acknowledge something has happened, not sure if for better or worse, not knowing what to say. 

In the silence, he fills two glasses of water and they drink, looking at each other over the rim of the glasses. 

Finally, they begin at the same time,  _"I," "I,_ " and they fall to silence and giggle. 

_"Let me just say something quickly,"_ he says, not wanting to miss the opportunity to reassure her,  _"I heard everything you said, I listened and I want you to know, I'm not going anywhere Molly. No matter how hard it will get, I'll be here, no matter how hard you push me away, I'll keep coming back. I've lost you once, I'm not prepared to lose you again, I'll be here as long as you need me."_  He wanted to say 'as long as you want me' but decided against it, he has so much he wants to say, but he fears it will be too much too soon. 

_"Now, if you're ready, there is one more thing for us to do today,"_  as he says this, he pulls his mobile phone out his pocket, fiddles with it and hands it to her, the contact photo on the screen telling her everything she needs to know. She raises her eyes to him, he can see the excitement and worry building inside. 

_"You ready?"_  He asks and she nods her head, wiping her palms on her pants. He then presses 'send' and waits for the ringing to begin,  _"I'll wait outside,"_  he says as he hears the tone and begins to pull away, but her hand instinctively grabs the fabric on his arm, holding him in place, her eyes focused on the floor as she waits for the call to be picked up.

_"Charles?"_  She hears the worried voice on the other side of the line,  _"is everything alright?"_  

_"Mum?"_  her voice is small and full of hope and disbelief, her hand clenching harder on the fabric of his jacket, he hears Belinda's faint voice breaking as she cries.

_"Molly?! Molly, oh my god, Molly honey, Molly baby,"_ Molly's fingers wrap around his arm, tears running silently down her cheeks. He can feel her shivering but he's not sure what to do. Belinda goes on in excitement, in tears, one thought chasing another, not giving Molly the opportunity to answer.  _"Molls, I'm so happy to hear from you, you okay? Where are you? Are they taking good care of you? When are you coming home? Molly baby, Molly. I have to call your Nan and find your father, I'm so happy to hear your voice, Molly honey, I thought, are you okay? Are you with Charles, is he taking care of you? When can I see you?"_

At some point Molly breaks into a giggle, relieved at the sound of her mother's voice, the characteristic blather ensuring her it's her mother and that nothing has changed much. She lifts her eyes and smiles at Charles, her fingers sliding to find his hand and she takes it in hers. 

_"Yes, he's right here, doesn't let me out of his sight. I'm okay Mum, just a bit black and blue for decoration. How are you? How's Nan? And Bella? And the little ones?"_  

This time it's Molly who piles questions, the realization of the time that had past since the last time she'd spoken to them hitting her as she speaks. She goes quite again, lost in sorrow, listening to her mother's incomplete answers. After a short while it becomes too much, the notion of the time she's missed, the gaps she carries, the insufficiency of the communication over the phone. 

She's afraid she won't be able to hold on much longer. Not wanting her mother to hear her break down, she cuts into her mother's rambling,  _"Look, Mum, I have to go, I'll talk to you soon okay, I have to go. I'll be home soon."_

_S_ he bites her lips as she reflects on that last saying, trying to hold back the tears, realizing she'd given up on the notion of home. She hands Charles the phone, unable to take it anymore. He takes the phone from her, realizing the urgency of the situation, speaking quickly to the woman on the other side.

_"Belinda, hi, yes, we'll call you again soon, tomorrow if possible, yes, yes, yes, goodbye, bye."_  He hangs up and waits for a reaction from Molly, the phone still clutched in his hand. She pulls him closer, her hands tugging on his jacket, as she breaks down against his chest, sobbing. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to stand between her thighs, tucking her face in the curve of his neck. He wraps his arms around her, tightening his hold, his head sinking into her shoulder, as she clings to him, shaking and sobbing. 

He realizes it's the first time he's seen her break down in despair since she'd arrived at the hospital. He's seen tears come down her cheeks, but this was a release of pain and relief.

It takes its time, they stand like that for a while, not knowing how much time has passed, until she is no longer crying. He feels her move against his neck, her hand moving again to the lapel of his jacket and he releases some of the intensity he's holding her with. 

_"Thank you, thank you,"_  she whispered breathily against his neck. And then she does something that takes him by complete surprise; she kisses him gently on his neck, pulling him to her and setting butterfly kisses on his neck and cheek, continuing to thank him. It's as if she's not noticing the shift in her gesture, the effect it has on him, the erotic tension replacing the innocent intimacy. 

He contemplates if he should stop her, not wanting to embarrass her, nor let it get out of hand; they're still in a hospital after all, on an army base for that matter, and she is still so emotionally unstable. But she stops before he can come to a clear decision, she pulls back and looks at him. 

Though her cheeks are flushed, she doesn't seem uneasy.  _"Will you stay with me a while? At least until I fall asleep?"_  her green eyes are big and tantalizing, filled with reservation as she waits for his answer. He doesn't dare deny it from her, though he fears a line, protecting both her and him, might be being crossed.

He begins turning toward the chair set against the wall but she stops him.  _"No,"_  she says softly as she shifts to make room on the bed,  _"please,"_  she asks in a low voice, gesturing the space next to her. 

_"Molly,"_  trepidation and excitement in his voice,he tries to be rational and cautious. 

_"Please,"_  she whispers again,  _"I need you close, just until I fall asleep."_  

He can't resist her, his body moving towards her on its own accord, rejoicing in the opportunity to be next to her, to touch her, to feel her. He climbs into the bed as she goes under the covers, he lays beside her, over the covers in a semi-sitting position, his shoulders leaning on pillows against the back board. She rests her head on his chest, closing her eyes, her body flush against his side and he wraps one arm around her back, supporting her to him. They lay like that for a while, silently, she soon nods off into sleep, while slow thoughts pass through his head as he revels in the feeling of her against him.     


	12. Recount

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- this chapter contains content that may be triggering in terms of violence and abuse (No gore, just may be emotionally disturbing to some.)

He wakes feeling something stirring beside him, his eyes open slowly to find it's dark, both inside the room and outside the window; he's fallen asleep next to her in bed, his body turned toward her during the night, it's now curled with her folded against him in a spooning position. His hands, he's flustered to find, have habitually found their way around her body. They lie as they used to, months ago, before everything happened; his right arm over her hipbone, his hand tucked between her thighs, his left arm circling under her neck and across her chest, pinning her to him by the arms. Countless times they've woken up like this, usually slipping directly into lovemaking as their bodies responded to one another even before their minds were completely awake. The memory, along with her proximity, drives heat into his groin, though his head knows it is the least possible, least appropriate, most unacceptable thing he could allow himself at the moment. But that's the thing with biology, it doesn't necessarily listen to logic. 

She twitches again in her sleep, grimacing with pain or unease, dreams disturbing her calm features, and he tries to fight against the affect the friction of their bodies has on him. Afraid to wake her, to expose his situation and put her in discomfort, he raises his left arm only slightly to look at his watch. 4:30. Shit. 

 Contemplating the fact that he has no choice but to try and wake her so he can untangle himself and break away, the door flings open before he can reach a decision. 

 _"James,"_  Margi whispers sharply and comes into the room, unaffected by his bewildered gaze, " _night shift is just about over, and you can't be here when the morning shift comes. Not everybody is as lenient as I."_ A mischief smile flitters across her lips, causing him to blush lightly, _"And anyway,_ _Morley, Stravinsky, and doc Casey are scheduled to arrive this morning. I believe it's better they do not find you here."_

The volume and frenzy of her voice having woken Molly, she's confused to find herself in such intimacy. She instinctively huddles into herself, separating from his body, a shiver goes through her from cold and embarrassment. His arms finally free and in his charge, he quickly gets up from the bed, nodding absentmindedly at Margi. With another quick look at the both of them, Margi leaves the room, the door remaining open behind her, a hint to him to hurry and leave. 

He turns to look at Molly but she's hiding her head in the sheets. He bends down and whispers,  _"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep, I didn't..."_  but he can't finish the sentence because somewhere inside he's not sorry it happened.  _"I'll come back later."_

Not knowing what else to say or do, he quickly leaves the room.

 ...

At 8:12 there's a light knock on the door and the three of them enter the room, finding her sitting on her bed, waiting for them. They stand in front of her bed, legs apart and hands crossed and look at her.  _'You have got to be kidding me'_ she thinks as she looks back at them. 

Good thing Margi let her know they were coming, she had time to prepare herself. Though she hadn't slept much since Charles had left, the thoughts of yesterday mixed with anguish over what Morley would want, her nut was too noisy for sleep.

Dr. Casey, a young man of about 30, his short hair the color of rain clouds, breaks the silence. 

 _"Good morning Dawes, how are you feeling today?"_  she nods in silence, looking at him with expectation, the least he can do is get to the point.  _"Major Morley would like to have a word with you if you are up for it."_   She goes on nodding and Morley immediately begins. 

_"Private Dawes, it's good to see you again, though I wish the circumstances were different. Happy to see you're feeling better. I know it's a bit soon, we did think we could wait with this, but things have escalated and we need your help. Hopefully, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can go home."_

He adds this last bit hoping to encourage her, though she hadn't shown any sign of resistance. When she nods again in silence, Stravinsky feels obligated to step in. 

 _"Molly, I know this might be difficult, we'll do it at your pace and we can stop at any time."_  She lifts her gaze to Morely, to confirm he's in check with her,  _"You sure you're feeling up for this?"_  

Molly nods and then plucks up the courage.  _"Could you get Captain James?"_

 _"_ _James?"_  Morley cuts in before the psychologist has a chance to react.  _"This is a delicate situation of classified information. We would like to keep the ears at a bare minimum. On that note, doctor Casey, I think we got it from here."_  The doctor nods understandingly, excuses himself and leaves. But Molly is not so compliant _._

 _"I'm not talking without him in the room,"_  she says, surprised at the sound of her own resolution, her eyes fixed on Morley. 

 _"Private Dawes,"_ he begins, his voice fierce, but to her surprise Stravinsky cuts in, in her favor. 

 _"Major Morley, I believe private Dawes has a reason to ask this, we should try and make this as comfortable for her as possible, I recommend we agree to her request and allow him to attend."_  

The two women look at each other and then at him, as he goes over things in his head _. "Fine,"_  he says eventually,  _"could you see to it?"_  he asks Stravinsky and she nods and goes to the door.

To her surprise, she doesn't need to go far; Charles is sat on a chair just outside the door. His head springs up as she opens the door and he follows immediately when she signals for him with her head to come in. 

 _"_ _James,"_  Morley greets him before he can even make eye contact with Molly, extending out his hand for a shake, his voice stern but his eyes bright, _"this is... somewhat unusual but I'll allow it as long as you understand that this is of the highest security classification, what is said in this room, is not to be repeated, anywhere."_

 _"Yes sir,"_  Charles replies before turning his eyes to Molly, a whisper of a smile crossing his face. He can see the rings under her eyes and wonders if, like him, she found it hard to sleep after their separation this morning. 

 _"Take a seat"_ Morley commands and Charles sets himself on the chair set against the back wall, across from Molly. It's then Morley pulls out a file from under his arm along with a recorder.  _"Private Dawes, I hope it's okay if I record this, so we'll have it for future reference?" she nods and he sets the machine on the tray next to her bed. "We need you to go over these, and try and identify any of these men."_  He hands her the file, filled with headshots and pictures of men. 

She flicks through them silently, examining some of them more closely. All eyes focused on her, the tension in the room rising. After a while she breaks the silence,  _"Him."_  she says pointing at a picture of an elderly man,  _"He was there."_

 _"Are you sure?"_  Morley asks, a hint of surprise in his voice. 

Molly nods without lifting her head. _"They wanted to sell me to him, he came to examine me like I was livestock. One of the boys later said I'd be lucky if he bought me."_  

Though her voice was stable, her feature became dark with the memories. She continues flipping through the photographs.

As she flips over another picture, a gasp leaves her lips, she freezes, her eyes huge but she cannot speak. 

 _"Molly?"_  Stravinsky's voice breaks the silence, she takes one step forward toward the bed, but Molly shakes her head and pulls herself together.

 _"He's one of them."_  She lifts her eyes away from the picture, searching for an anchor in the room and finds Charle's eyes. 

She hears Morley's voice,  _"Anything you can remember may be of help, Dawes, just tell us what you remember."_

Her eyes locked with Charles', she speaks to him, allowing herself to fall back into the memories.  _"They called him John, it was like a joke. He was there most of the time, also when they moved me from one place to the second, he remained."_  

_"Do you remember anything about the first place?"_

She goes on, almost as though she didn't hear his question, the words flow out of her like in a trans.  _"Ben and I were patrolling the outskirts of the village when a sniper shot at Ben out of nowhere. I tried to pull Ben to safety, but he was losing blood so fast, I had to stop the bleeding. I was kneeling at his side, and then somebody came from behind and pulled a sack over my head. I tried to reach my radio, but he struck my hand on the radio with the stock of his rifle."_ The image of her two black fingernails floats into Charles' mind. _"And then I_   _heard gunshots and yelling, and I was being pulled and shoved and I couldn't breathe and then it all went dark._

_"What happened to Ben?"_

Both Morley and Stravinsky are at a loss, Charles jumps in to offer some information, hoping it will bring her comfort.  _"He was badly injured, but his section got to him in time. With your kit there and the basic training you'd insisted on for your section, one of the boys could continue where you left off, keeping him alive until medivac arrived. He's lost an arm, but he's home with his family."_  

His words sound empty in his own ears, guilt rises in him. He wanted to comfort her but it felt more like disappointment, the inability to save her shouts incompetence. But she listens to his words, her eyes glistening and a small smile washes over her.

 _"Anything else you remember Dawes?"_ Morley is not as patient to let them indulge in the moment. 

She takes a moment to think, the images going through her mind. To a stranger's eye, she might seem solid but Charles can see the feelings gushing inside her. She begins suddenly in a rush, afraid if she stopped, she'd never be able to talk about it again. She realizes that's the reason she asked for Charles to be here; he needs to know, needs to hear it from her and this might be the only opportunity. 

 _"When I came to, it was completely quiet, I tried to breathe but there was no air. My hands were tied behind my back, my legs as well, and a rug was tied around my mouth. I couldn't move anyway because there was no space."_  She sees the thoughts running through his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly with what she supposes is anger.  _"At some point, it got really hot. I was there for ages, alone, I think I fell back asleep eventually and then I heard tires screech, and someone opened a latch above me and pulled me out into the desert. It was pitch black, I couldn't see anything around me. He tied a rug around my eyes again so I couldn't see his face, and then he sat me up and gave me some water and something to eat and then he pushed me back into the pit and closed the latch. That went on for days. And then one day someone pulled me out and shoved me into the car and we drove off."_  

Her rush of words is almost automatic as if she's telling something she hasn't experience herself, something foreign to her. She can see Charles' face changing colors as she speaks, he doesn't break eye contact with her but she can see he's fighting the tears. Instead, a deep crease forms across his forehead. 

_"My blindfold must have come loose because when we stopped and I was pulled out the vehicle, the sun was already coming up and I could see a compound with four low white buildings. I was thrown into a little dark room, with concrete floor and white walls._

_"Later someone came and tied my hands above my head, so my feet barely touched the ground and then the interrogations started._ _They asked questions, hundreds of questions over and over again, and they used force, even when I gave them answers. But I didn't give them anything more than my name, I swear."_  She's suddenly frantic, her eyes shift to Morley, he's squinting at her as he listens. 

 _"We know, Dawes, it's alright, go on."_  

It's then a realization washes over her, the color drains from her face and she turns to Stravinsky,  _"I made myself forget_." Stravinsky nods at her solemnly, trying to assess her state. 

Molly looks back at Charles, her eyes filled with pain.  _"I'm sorry,"_  it's barely a whisper, directed only at him, oblivious to the other two people in the room. 

He fears he's going to explode or melt down, everything hurts. He feels Stravinsky looking at him but though his eyes are fixed on Molly, he can't fight the tears any longer, they just stream silently onto his cheeks.

Morley, standing with his back to Charles, pulls the situation back together.  _"Private Dawes, you think you can go on?"_  

She takes a moment to find her place in the story, confused at the disruption and disregard of what seems to her to be the most important realization. Her eyes darkening again with the memories, she continues with a cold voice. 

 _"The interrogations lasted forever, months I guess, sometimes for what seemed like days on end. They used sticks and rope and cigarets on me, anything basically. A water hose, pliers. They cut my hair and my clothes, took my dog-tags and my shoes. They used threats, said no one was looking for me, that everyone had forgotten about me, that nobody cared. Then, the day after that man came in,"_  she points again at the picture of the elderly man _, "they pushed me back into the truck and we drove off again. We were in the car for two days."_

 _"You remember how many people were with you in the car?"_  Morley cuts in.

 _"Three. Two in front and one above me in the back seat. He wouldn't stop touching me the entire ride."_  A teardrop falls on the picture in front of her; she wipes it quickly away. 

_"When we got to the second place we made the videotape. That's when I knew they'd lied, that I was still valuable to them, that they still believed they had a chance with our government. The interrogations grew fewer then, they just kept me in the dark most of the time._

_"One day, not long before you came,"_  her eyes shift back to Charles. He reads guilt in them, though he doesn't understand how she can possibly feel guilty for any of it.  _"The man from the car came in and tried again but I didn't let him, I didn't let him, I fought so hard he beat me cold, but he didn't try anymore after that."_

 _"Was that John, that was always there? the man in the car is the man in the picture?"_   _Morley's words drag her eyes away from Charles,_ she looks back down at the portrait in front of her. 

 _"No,"_  she shakes her head,  _"I saw him only on those two occasions, in the car when we moved and on that day. I think he was Pakistani because they called him Bhai, 'brother'. But they talked Pashto between them. John was the one driving. He was the one asking the questions. He's the one that organized the tape and instructed me what to say._ _He'd say I was Allah's gift to him and to Afghanistan, and that he'd make sure he'd use it right to free the country."_  

Suddenly she's very tired, and can't seem to think of anything more to say. Luckily, Stravinsky's hawk-eyes catch her state and she addresses Morely,  _"I think that's enough for now Major, Dawes needs her rest. Anything else will have to wait."_  

She collects the pictures from the bed, handing the file and the recorder back to Morely. 

 _"There was also a woman,"_  Molly suddenly adds, remembering.  _"I never saw her face but I heard her voice. She'd hum when she cooked."_  

 _"A woman?"_  Morely's voice reveals his bafflement. 

 _"Hmmm"_  Molly nods slowly. From the corner of her eye, Stravinsky sees Molly shivering on the bed. She signals for Morley to leave _._

 _"Dawes, I understand that was hard, but it was above and beyond. You've given us more information than we'd hoped for. Thank you, and again, I'm truly sorry."_  

When Molly doesn't react at all, Morely looks at Stravinsky for help. She stands at the door holding it open for him, waiting for him to exit. She contemplates what to do about Charles, should she request he leave, or would it be better to have him in the room when she assesses Molly's state?


	13. Remains

Molly lays curled on her bed, only her head visible, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her eyes - the only thing in her body holding any animation - glued to Charles, the rest of the world just doesn't seem to exist. 

He can see she's completely spent from the effort of recounting everything. He's grateful she let him be there, hear it, though he hated every moment of it, it ached in his body. He sits on the chair, unable to move, not knowing what to do, what she wants or needs, if he should leave or stay. 

Time passes, yet they remain like that, looking at each other, communicating in silence. 

Stravinsky's presence is the only movement in the room. She shifts from side to side, looking from the one to the other, not sure what to do, if she should break the silence and the connection and try to induce Molly to speak, or, if she should just leave, let Molly have time. But that would mean time with him and she's not certain that would be the right thing for Molly, the healthiest option. In all the years she's been working with trauma victims, she has never seen a patient form such a connection so fast, it's as if, at times she breathes through him, finds ground just by looking at him. Stravinsky asks herself to what extent this dependency will eventually hinder her recovery. She could, perhaps, pull rank, command he leaves but logic tells her she'd win the battle and lose the war, that would only alienate both Molly and Charles.

_"Molly,"_  she tries.

_"No."_  comes a tired answer before she can even finish the question, Molly's eyes not leaving Charles, not even blinking. 

Stravinsky swallows the insolent tone and tries again. _"Do you need anything? Something to eat perhaps, to drink?"_  Molly doesn't even bother to answer.  _"Okay, well, I understand you just want to be left alone. I get that. Just know my door is always open for you, even out of our scheduled sessions."_  It's like talking to air; like she's talking to herself. Even she can't stand the sound of her own voice. She takes a peek at Charles but he seems to be in the same sort of trance as Molly.  _"Well, I let you rest then."_  Silence. 

She supposes she should try and get Charles attention to leave the room _, "Charles,-"_

_"No."_  Molly's answer cuts in, making her wishes very clear. Stravinsky has no choice but to close the door behind her.

 

It happens very slowly, he's not even sure which one of them starts it, but something in the silence of the room changes, it's emptiness engulfing them with a tickling freedom. It begins with a twitch of an eye, or a thought seen reflected in the other's gaze, a sparkle coming through, a tip of her lip curling up, his lips parting slowly to reveal white teeth, her nose wrinkling, her cheeks reddening, a low rumble in his chest, her dimple showing, his forehead filling with lines, then full blown grins they can't hold in anymore, they burst together into a loud, roaring laughter, their bodies shaking, their heads falling back, their eyes filling with tears, their hands on their bellies, their sides split, their lungs begging for air. They don't actually know what they are laughing about, but they can't seem to stop. 

_"Ow, ow,"_  she eventually laughs breathily, holding her side, slowly coming down from the wild state.

_"God, I've missed you,"_  he let's slip as he wipes his eyes and tears. 

When he looks at her again, he sees her stretching an arm toward him. His features become grave again,  _"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Molly."_  He can't believe he's managed to say that, it defies everything he's feeling and what he wants to do but he knows what proximity would lead to and he doesn't think he could stop himself this time. 

_"I don't care,"_  she stretches her arm even more,  _"I need you to sleep, I won't be able to fall asleep without you. Please come here."_  

The memories of him waking up this morning, her unease, flash through his mind and he remains hesitant. It's like she can read his thoughts,  _"I don't care about what happened this morning, I don't mind."_  

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, he's not sure if she's being true, in denial, or if she's just telling him what he wants to hear, to get her way. It's not really what he'd like to hear; he'd like her to say she does care, that she feels it too, that she wants it too. In his head, he chuckles at how unfair it is that his attraction becomes very visible, while she can hide hers. 

_"I can stay here on the chair,"_  he gives a feeble attempt, knowing it won't work. 

_"Charles Joseph James,"_ Her voice is stern as if she's reprimanding him, but she doesn't notice what she's just said.  _"please come here an-"_

_"Molly,"_  he cuts in, his face growing serious, his eyes growing big _, "you just used my middle name. How do you know my middle name?"_  He's so confused but doesn't dare hope. 

She looks at him and tries to retrace her thoughts,  _"I don't know, it was just there. How do I know your middle name?"_  she's as confused as he is. 

_"Do you remember anything? Anything else?"_ He shouldn't have asked that, shouldn't have hoped, he knows the answer before she says it.

_"No, I don't think so,"_  she can see the effect her words have on him, he clenches his jaw, steeling himself in front of her, fighting with something inside him, with his disappointment.

She removes the sheets, sitting up and climbing down from the bed. He follows her with his eyes, not sure what she means to do, unable to react. She makes slow even steps towards him. It's ridiculous how much time it takes her to cross the small room, her legs getting used to carrying her weight again. 

Eventually, she stands before him. He seems smaller, drained, he doesn't look at her. She takes his face in her hands and raises it, wiping traces of tears, creases of anger and disappointment that have tarnished his calm features. His arm unconsciously circles her waist, taking hold of the fabric at her back, his eyes bore into hers. 

_"Charles,"_ she whispers and bends down to kiss his cheekbone and then his cheek and the other one, the side of his nose, his temple, his forehead _,_ his cheek again.

_"Molly,"_  he whispers back and she lifts his head a tiny bit more and kisses his lips. His eyes close with the first hint of her lips, it's so gentle, he's not sure he's not imagining it. He doesn't dare respond and when he doesn't she brushes her lips against his, coaxing him to accept her. But he's afraid he'll lose control, afraid he won't be able to stop, afraid she's doing it out of pity and not out of reciprocal feelings. 

A small pressure on his jaw and an almost inaudible grunt from her erase every thought he has, his fears obliterate into fleeting butterflies as he tastes her against his lips, echoing her grunt with a low moan, his arm bringing her closer. He takes her lower lip between his and sucks on it, grazing lightly with his teeth like he remembers she likes, relishing in the feel of her lips, her taste, her smell; god he's missed this, he's dreamt of this, he's played their kisses in his head endless nights when he lay alone in bed or in a pit somewhere in the Afghan desert and needed something to take his mind off his worries. 

He has to stop. He has to stop before it goes too far, he has to stop before he won't be able to, he has to stops before he let's slip how he feels and what she means to him and how he wants to take her home and never let her go. 

He breaks away from the kiss but keeps his arm firm around her, holding her in place, he leans his head against her shoulder, catching his breath against her chest.  _"Molly, what are you doing to me?"_  

She's dumbfounded by his reaction, not sure if he's expecting an answer to that. He raises his head to look at her and finds their lips extremely close again. Tortured by the similarity to the words he told her almost two years ago when she asked him if he loved her, he whispers. _"We can't do this. Not here, not like this. You still don't know everything, you don't remember."_  

He can't take the hurt in her eyes, the loss,  _"Believe me, Molly, I want to, god, you have no idea, but you're not ready."_

_"I don't care,"_  she childishly tries to fight against his logic, but he stops her.

_"I care, Molly. Please stop saying you don't care. I meant what I said yesterday, I'm here for the long haul, I'm here to stay, I need you to care. You said it yourself, you need to choose this and in order to choose, you need to know."_  

He knows he's struck a chord; he sees the exhaustion taking over her again, preventing her from arguing, the weight of their exchange adding to what she went through earlier, she becomes smaller in his arms, her eyelids becoming heavy. He shifts his arms around her and picks her up as he gets up, carrying her across the room and laying her in bed. 

As he puts his lips to her forehead she whispers.  _"Don't go, stay."_

_"I'm not going, I'm right here, on the chair, until you fall asleep."_  She nods in acceptance, taking hold of his hand.  _"Molly,"_  he sniggers,  _"I need to bring the chair._ " 

She let's go of his hand but battles to pry open one eye to follow him. When he sets the chair close to the bed, she takes his hand again, holding it in her hands, her eyes closed. With his other hand, he strokes her hair, silently humming her to sleep, while his insides are gushing, he tries to convince himself he did the right thing.


	14. Remorse

_"You did the right thing."_  Sitting at her desk across from him, him having told her what had happened after she left the room yesterday, Stravinsky tries to get an authoritative grip on the situation. 

She'd feared this would happen, the implications it might have on Molly's recovery as she chooses to concentrate on the here and now rather than deal with the painful gaps of her recovery.

Charles, of course, hadn't told her everything. He hadn't told her what happened between them the night before, how their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle, nor has he revealed how he'd woken up this morning, in his pit, wet like a hormone-struck teenager, the memories of his dreams haunting him. For all the control he had displayed in front of Molly, alone in his Portakabin, in his dreams, he lost control and let go. 

One dream picked up exactly where they left off at 4:30 the night before. Margi didn't come in, Molly didn't shy away. On the contrary, she took his hand and took control, guiding him towards her, whispering to him to make her forget. The thought of it now makes him ashamed.

In another dream she walked to him like she did yesterday, but with every step she grew stronger, her hair grew long, her body filled and recovered, she took her clothes off as she neared him, whispering, _'look at me Charles, I'm here, you don't have to be afraid anymore.'_  And when she kissed him, she took away his fears, lifted his pains and doubts. 

She kissed him and he felt like they were flying, she straddled him and his skin tingled and tickled, and as she rode him she whispered in his ear, what he wishes she'd whisper in reality,  _'I remember Charles, I remember you, and us, and everything. I remember Christmas and our house, I remember our first kiss, and when you told me you loved me, and when I said it back. I remember your letters when I was away, our phone calls and Skype calls and gifts, I remember our naughty gifts. I remember it all Charles, and I'm here to stay.'_  

He woke up wailing; the pain of the realization it wasn't real, the tricks his mind and body had conspired to play against him were too much to hold inside. He thanked god he didn't have to wake up in a shared tent, though he felt as young and embarrassed as those soldiers who did.

His confusion and pain led him now to sit in front of Stravinsky, seeking advice on what would be the right thing to do regarding Molly. He can't bear to face her, knowing what's going on in his mind and the gap to where she is at and what she needs, but he knows he can't disappear, her trust being so valuable and delicate. 

Though he had fought with himself the entire evening and had longed for this answer, he finds Stravinsky's words unhelpful and uncomforting. It's not what he needs. 

_"_ _I must say, James"_  Stravinsky starts again, or perhaps she's been talking all this time and he just hadn't listened,  _"I was looking at the two of you yesterday, and I'm not sure what the right thing to do here. Your connection is really quite remarkable but I've also asked myself if it's the right thing for Molly."_  He knows where she's headed with this and doesn't want to hear it.

_"You can't separate us."_  He sounds like a teenage boy, fighting against his parents' disapproval, a 30 years young Romeo. 

Stravinsky cocks an eyebrow.  _"Technically I can, but this isn't about that. Molly needs to find her own two feet. I'm afraid she's growing much too dependent on you."_  

_"Look, yesterday was a one-off thing, she leaned on me because she had to go back and tell you, us, all of that. But the day before she talked differently."_  

_"What do you mean?"_  He goes on to tell her of their conversation at the picnic table in front of the Pizza Hut container. She listens intently, then takes a moment before asking,  _"So you haven't actually told her the full extent of your former relationship? She doesn't know you were a couple and in love for that matter."_

_"No."  
_

_"Why haven't you told her yet?"_  

The question that has stealthily been picking at his mind. He hesitates before answering, wondering how long it takes before he actually dares to say the words.  _"She was so hurt when I told her about our professional past, me being her Captain, us being on tour together... it created such a dent, she sent me away. I, I,-"_  he breathes deeply, 1, 2, 3 and lets go,  _"I'm afraid of how she'll react when she finds out. I'm afraid she'll think I've been playing her this entire time, that I have ulterior motives, that it'll break our trust and she won't want to see me at all after that."_  

_"And have you? Do you have ulterior motives? Do you think she might be right to feel like that?"_  

He doesn't want to answer this. He doesn't want to answer this. He can't answer this. He get's up a starts pacing, his hand automatically pulling at his curls.  _"No,"_  he tries to sound determined but sounds unsure instead. It somehow came out more like a question than an answer. 

_"I mean, I want her to get better, of course, that more than anything. But I won't deny, I want us to find us again, to be able to continue our relationship, who we were. I want her. I go into that room and I hope to come out of it a bit closer to what we had. I don't know if that's perhaps unfair, or if that's considered ulterior motives, but it's how I feel."_  

_"Let me ask you it this way,"_  Stravinsky seems unaffected by his words, or is that just her professionalism?  _"If you knew, you and Molly weren't going to get back together, if the possibility was off the table, would you still be here? Like you are now?"_

_"Yes."_  The word comes out his mouth before he can even think.  _"She saved my life that day of the shooting. She's saved it more than once in different ways, I'd do anything to see her healthy again."_

_"Even if that means stepping back and giving her the space to do it?"_  He comes to a halt, leaning his arms against the back of the sofa, glaring at her, 'Damn you. Damn you and your psychological tricks of twisting everything into place.' is what he'd like to say, as he unwillingly understands he has to agree. But he hesitates to answer. 

_"Look,"_  she finally says,  _"Morley, Casey and I held a meeting yesterday evening. We're thinking of sending her back to the UK by the end of the week. She can continue her rehabilitation at Headley Court, perhaps even as an outpatient from London, we'll decide that during the week. My suggestion would be, that you give her these few days for herself, to adjust to the idea."_  

They conduct a short staring match as he thinks it over. 

_"I can't just disappear, she'll hate me. She needs me."_  

_"Which one are you more concerned about? That she needs you? Or that you'll lose her trust? Don't answer that. I'm not saying you should disappear. You should definitely talk to her, explain, say goodbye. And I think you should also tell her the truth. You owe her that much. Allow her to choose from a vantage point, from which she'll be able to decide what she wants."_  

He knows she's right and nods slightly with her words, pinching the bridge of his nose as he steels himself for the decision they have somehow, suddenly, made. 

_"Charles,"_ he looks at her, pained to hear what she's going to say,  _"you have to understand, it might take months for Molly to recover what she's lost, to be able to commit to you again in a healthy way. And it also might be that she won't. You have to come to terms with the fact that it may be that Molly will never again fully be the Molly you've known. You'll have to accept who she is now in order to let her recover to the fullest._

_"I suggest you take this time apart to think about that as well." She takes a short pause, contemplating if to add the next part, aware of the risk in her words, "Also, you've done your job, you've achieved what you'd set out to do; You've brought her back, you're bringing her home. No one will blame you or judge you if you decide not to get romantically involved with her again. It's understandable."_  

_"No."_  He wants to scream.  _"No."_  it's burning inside him.  _"No. I love her, I'm still in love with her. I want her, with me, in my life, every day. I'm the one who needs her, not the other way around. I don't care what other people think, or how long I have to wait, or if we have to start from the beginning, from nothing; I'm not giving her up, you hear me, I'm not letting her slip away, not unless she tells me she doesn't want me. I won't."_

He's panting now, his cheeks burning. He sees Stravinsky adjusting her poker face.  _"Okay,"_  She says quietly,  _"just thought I'd put it our there, for you._   _Just make sure you're really choosing this and not doing it out of obligation, or guilt. What happened to her is not your fault and you can't help her by pitying her, or trying to make it up to her."_  

She finishes with a stern expression on her face, her eyes directed at him. He must admit to himself, her words do border on some of his thoughts and questions.  _"Are we done?"_  he asks, at last, unable to hear any more. 

_"Yes, James, we're done here."_  With that, she stands up and stretched an arm for him to shake,  _"In case we don't get another chance, it's been an honor to meet you, you've done an exceptional job bringing her back."_  She smiles a small smile, meeting his eye. 

_"Thank you."_  He says, embarrassed, as he shakes her hand,  _"Please take care of her."_  he adds and then smiles apologetically. 

She smirks back,  _"We do our best."_  she says. And with that, he leaves the room.  


	15. Recreation

He knocks lightly on the door before entering,  _"Molly?"_

_"Where have you been?!"_  He's showered with furious words, Molly is sitting on her bed, glaring at him,  _"You said you wouldn't disappear. I've been sitting here waiting for you. You can't do that, you promised you'd stay, that you'd be here, no matter what."_

_"I'm right here."_  God, he hates this game, the mask he's forced himself to put on to make this entire encounter easier. 

_"You know what I mean,"_  she answers annoyed. 

_"No, Molly, I don't. I had things to do today and I'm here now. It's been less than 24 hours since you've seen me. Now, if you're done yelling at me, I've come to ask you if you'd like to go for a walk with me."_

_"I can't,"_  she huffs,  _"visiting hours are almost over."_

_"I've cleared it with Margi, she knows we're going and when we're coming back."_  It's been so long since he's faced her like this, not giving in, it feels almost like they're back to normal, arguing like the couple they were. 

_"It's almost supper time,"_  she refuses to give in, though she's curious at his new suggestion, he seems to have a plan. But she wants to see how far she can stretch it,  _"Margi needs to see me eat. Doctor's orders."_

_"Got that covered too, Molly."_  Now he knows she's being stubborn for the sake of it, she usually couldn't give a toss, as she says, about following orders she's not interested in; She's punishing him for not coming sooner, making up for her insult. 

_"So, do you want to join me, or am I going alone?"_  

_"Fine. Bring the chair over, will ya?"_

_"No. Walking. Come on, get your shoes on."_  He brings her sneakers to the bed. 

_"What has gotten into you?"_  she asks, but his eyes just glisten at her.

_"You need help putting them on?"_

_"No, I'll manage."_  There is a still insult lining her voice. She takes the shoes from the bed and struggles to put the right shoe on. Folding her leg pushes against her abdomen and causes her pain but she moans against it determined to succeed. And she does. But with her left foot, she can't seem to manage, it hurts too much, she can't even fold her leg enough to reach her foot. 

He stands by her bed, leaning against the nightstand, his hands folded across his chest, waiting for her to get over herself and ask for help.  _"Molly,-"_

_"Fine!"_  she almost shouts, then calms her voice down.  _"Can you please help me?"_  she's on the verge of tears. 

He stands up, taking her foot to his lap and sliding the shoe on, looking at her as he does so, tieing her shoelace without taking his eyes off her, until the very end, to check it's tied good. 

It's then she stretches her hand to him, her fingers touching his shoulder lightly, trying to gently pull him closer.  _"Charles,"_  her voice is low, almost breaking, _"please don't be mad at me because of yesterday. I'm sorry if I crossed the line, I didn't mean to, please don't be mad."_  

There it is, her fears exposed, it breaks his heart. He comes closer, circling his arms around her, his lips pressed to her temple, he speaks softly.  _"I'm not mad Molly. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm not mad."_  They stand like this for a short moment, breathing, then he steps back and asks in reconcile,  _"You ready to go?"_

_._

They walk slowly, to her pace as her muscles get used to the movement and the exertion. " _You have to walk, Molly, every day, it'll do you good to get out that room and the more you exercise the sooner you'll get stronger."_  He realizes he's preparing her for the next days, without him, though he hasn't told her yet. 

She nods but changes the subject,  _"I wanted to ask you. I woke up this morning with an image in my head, I can't place or figure out. Thought maybe you can help me."_  

Now he's intrigued.  _"What is it?"_

_"It's you and me, on an army base I guess, cause you're wearing your uniform and I'm wearing a black tank top and combats. And there are colorful string lights hanging around us, and, this might sound weird, but, I think you're holding a microphone and we're singing. Does that make any sense?"_  

She ends up laughing, thinking it probably sounds ridiculous. But as she turns to look at him, expecting him to take the piss, she sees him smiling, a grin so big he eventually bites his lower lip with his teeth to stop himself. His eyes sparkling.

   _"Dance with me,"_  he says and takes her in his arms, swaying and humming a harmony in her ear,  _"Don't go breaking my heart,"_

_"Yes! That's it!"_  she says wonderstruck,  _"Is that a real memory, what it is?"_  she can't help herself from smiling with him. 

_"We sang it together, as a duet, at the FOB. It was 2 section's turn to take care of the entertainment. The song was a tradition with 2 section from basic and when you came along, I finally had a female alternative to Mansfield."_

_"Mansfield?"_  she looks confused.

  _"Mansfield Mike, the redhead that starts every sentence with 'my Mum always says'? I'm not sure if it's actually that bad that you don't remember him,"_  he banters. He's so happy she's found a memory and of the two of them! He could jump and sing and dance, well, he is dancing, with her in his arms.

_"It was such a crappy day, that day on patrol. But that evening, you were so beautiful, you glowed under those lights. You had us all wrapped around your finger. Though you couldn't carry a tune to save your life."_  He realizes what he's just said and quickly tries to diminish it,  _"Molls,"_  he wraps his arms around her, picking her up,  _"you're remembering!"_

She doesn't care how much her bruises hurt in that moment, being in his arm as he twirls her around laughing, is the best feeling she's known in a long time, maybe ever.

Eventually, he puts her down and they continue their walk, beaming at each other. At some point, she notices he's leading them somewhere specific, it's not just an aimless stroll. They soon arrive at his Portakabin but instead of going in, he leads her around the back, where a ladder is standing leant against the building. 

_"You ready?"_

_"Charles, I don't know if I can,"_

_"Molly,"_  he doesn't want to ever stop saying her name, he wants to repeat it again and again and again,  _"you can do anything. And I'm right behind you. Come on."_  He pulls her to the ladder and helps her climb up. 

It's really not that high but by the time they reach the roof and climb on it, she's panting.  _"You okay?"_  he asks, a flicker of worry crossing his eyes as he's momentarily alarmed at her state. She nods and catches her breath. 

_"Yes, fine."_  It then she sees there are blankets waiting for them and a box. " _What's this?"_  she asks curiously. 

_"All in good time Molls, all in good time. Sit,"_  he says as he spreads a blanket in front of her, handing her another one to wrap herself in.  _"Here,"_  he hands her a cup of tea from a thermos he's pulled out the box. 

_"Charles,"_  she asks happily as she hugs the cup between her hands,  _"What's going on? What's all this?"_

_"We're making new memories Molls._ " there's something so genuine about the way he says it, she can only nod and smile.


	16. Rooftop

_"So, the plan for this evening,"_  he says, drumming on his knees, " _Gifts and dinner, then some good news and then some less good news followed by something I need to tell you. How does that sound?"_  he raises his eyebrows to her.

_"Can we skip the less good news?"_ she asks cheekily.

He shakes his head, smiling,  _"Unfortunately, no, but how about we not focus on that just yet, okay? What do you want first, your gifts or your dinner?"_

_"My gift?"_  she answers shyly, going along with his mood.

_"Right, here you go."_  He pulls out a soft package from the box.  _"Though, maybe I should apologize that it's not entirely new... well, not at all actually, but I thought you should have it here, so I asked your mom to send it over."_

_"My mum?"_  she asks as she peels the paper to find a strangely familiar burgundy colored t-shirt with light blue sleeves.  _"My lucky shirt?! Ha, I can't believe it! thank you! You're the best. This is..."_ her eyes sparkle as she looks up at him, wiping away happy tears.

_"So, good?"_  he asks, knowing the answer.

_"Good,"_  she answers nodding,  _"bloody brilliant mate."_  She adds, her fingers already undoing her jacket. He looks away as she takes off her jacket and slips the shirt over the one she's wearing. He smiles as, through the corner of his eye, he sees it's his undershirt she's wearing. Shivering, she puts her jacket back on and wraps herself in the blanket, beaming at him. 

_"One more?"_  he asks after she's settled. 

_"What?"_  she answers confused. 

_"You ready for one more gift_?" 

_"Na mate, you're alright. Wouldn't want to spoil me rotten, would you."_

_"Actually Molly, I think I do. But this is more of a practical gift. It doesn't really count."_

_"Go on then, if you insist,"_  she smiles bashfully, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

He reaches into the box again and hands her a rectangle box.  _"A phone?"_  she looks up at him, with question in her eyes. 

_"Yes, Molls, a phone. It's back to civilization for you. Look,"_  he takes the phone from her hands and fiddles with it for a moment, then hands it back to her, her short contacts list composed of two names, 'Charles Josef James' and 'Mum'. She presses his name and waits for the ringtone. After two ringtones his phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. He takes it out and answers, his eyes never leaving hers, he puts it to his ear. 

_"Thank you,"_  she whispers,  _"I love it."_  

He takes the phone down from his ear and just looks at her,  _"You're welcome Molly."_

_"Now can we eat? I'm bloody famished,"_  she doesn't realize her joke rings of truth, she's still way too thin for her height and age. He wonders how long it will be like this, that every slip of the tongue, every turn of phrase will loom over her with a bad memory or a threat. 

_"Yes, here you go,"_ he gives her a bowl and a spoon, enjoying the suspension created by the order in which he's taking things out the box. 

" _Soup?_ " she scrunches her nose as she holds the bowl.

_"Not good?"_  he asks ruefully, stretching the prank. When she answers he can hear the slight disappointment in her voice. 

_"No, fine. Soup is fine."_  She looks unexcited until he hands her a small green carton. _"Milk?"_  she asks carefully, her confusion growing. He can't help but giggle as she examines the container in her hand. He then pulls the final ingredient of their meal out the box.

_"Coco Pops!"_  she yells excitedly and grabs the box from his hand and breaks into a laughter, her head falling back as she hugs the box. _"Haven't had these in ages!"_  She says casually. Seeing his worried look as he raises both eyebrows she adds,  _"Oh, you know what I mean. Come on, let's eat! Let'seat!"_  she says as she goes on to open the box and takes the bag of cereal out.

He smiles at her excitement. He'd hoped it would bring back some memories but her current excitement is well worth it anyway. He silently hands her his bowl but a mischievous smile spreads on her lips, as she takes a spoonful into her mouth, speaking around the milk filling it.  _"Oh, you want me to share do you? I dunno 'bout that mate, what have you done recently to deserve it?"_  she banters playfully. 

He eyes her playfully, appreciating the easiness and playfulness that possess her tonight, how close it feels to who she was, to what they were. He sneaks his spoon into her bowl.  _"Oi!"_  she yells as she pulls the bowl away from him, but he's managed to catch some bits on his spoon, he sticks it in his mouth and smirks at her. But then her face grows serious, a sudden line appears between her eyes. 

_"What is it Molly?"_ he asks concerned. 

_"Déjà vu,"_  she says introspectively,  _"for a moment it felt like I've experienced this before."_  

He holds back the urge to kiss her, his eyes fluttering over her features. He holds his excitement in check and says _, "That's because you have. We, have."_  He looks at her shortly assessing what she's thinking, if he should go on.

_"Your mom sent you a box during that tour. You'd eat it for breakfast and one morning I surprised you and stole a spoon from your bowl."_ He can't bring himself to explain the euphemism and what they talked about then. But she doesn't seem to have relaxed by his explanation _._

_"There was a sheet, with blood on it,"_  she says pensively, confusing him.

 " _What?"_

_"A sheet with blood, spread in the middle of the desert."_  

He suddenly understands, intrigued by the connection her brain has made between the two things.  _"Ah, yes,"_  he nods slowly _, "but that was much later. You sure you want to hear about that?"_     


	17. Revealing II

_"A story of about a bloody sheet in the middle of the desert? Nah, you're alright. It doesn't sound like a happy one. How 'bout you tell me the good news, instead?"_  

He looks at her for a moment, contemplating if it's right to leave it like that, the things they still have to discuss tonight, the proximity of one subject to the next. He decides to let it go.

By now, darkness has fallen around them. They're sitting with their backs to the lights of the camp, the stars bright above them. He stretches out, lying back on the blanket, his hands behind his head, preparing to enjoy her reaction, he gazes up at the sky, his voice calm, as though he's saying the most trivial thing in the world.

_"You're going home soon Molls; Stravinsky said by the end of the week they'll be sending you back to the UK, to continue your rehabilitation at home."_  Expecting to hear her yell or screech or shrill but hearing nothing, he looks at her, finding her in a state of shock, a smile slowly creeping across her face, her eyes twinkle.

_"Yeah?"_  she says breathily, hopefully, anxiously, the smile widening. 

He can't help but smile back at her, wishing he could make her believe it, enjoy it, wipe her uncertainties away. He stretches his hand to readjust a lock of hair fallen across her forehead into her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ear.  _"Yes, Molls, home."_

_"Home,"_  she echoes him,  _"by the end of the week, you're sure?_ " 

There's the happiness he's been waiting for, she looms over him, excitement building in her body, he bites his lip, looking at her smiling, nodding his head. 

She can't stop herself anymore, she bends down to him and awkwardly hugs him across the chest, " _Wow, home,"_  she mumbles. He circles his free hand around her, squeezing her to him. Then she lays beside him, her head resting on his arm and they watch the stars for a while in silence.

Suddenly she rises up, grabbing his sleeve, her face covered in worry _. "You're coming with me, right? You'll be there too?"_  

He shrugs, unsure how to approach the subject. He slowly sits up, tugging at his uniform and then his curls, trying out different sentences in his head _._

_"Charles,"_  she's freaking out by his lack of response, she can see he's holding something back. She edges closer to him, their knees touching,  _"please tell me you'll be there, I can't do it without you."_

_"Molls,"_  all he has to do is look at her face and find the answers, it always works for them with the most simple formation of truth,  _"you can do anything, you hear me, anything. You've fucking survived the Taliban, on your own. You don't really need me for anything,"_  a tear appears in his eye as the realization of his words becomes clear to him, but he goes on.  _"I will be there when you arrive back to Brize Norton, nothing in the world could stop me from being there,"_

_"But?"_

_"But, well that's the less good news for tonight,"_  he takes a deep breath and slips his fingers between hers, hoping to find strength and comfort.  _"I'm going back to the UK tomorrow, on the 05:00 flight."_

_"This is because of yesterday. You are mad. And now you're leaving. I'm sorry, I didn't mean, please don't leave me,"_  she's frantic now, her instincts have made her curl back into herself. 

_"Molly, listen to me,"_  he now edges himself to her, his one knee supporting her back, his arms around her, his lips to her temple _, "please don't cry. I'm not leaving because of what happened yesterday. I have things to take care of back home, prepare for your return."_ Then he sighs and gives in to the truth. _"Yes, yesterday was intense and Stravinsky and I thought it might be best if you and I have some time apart. You need to find your way and maybe me being here is averting that."_  

_"I don't know what that means, but what about what I want. Why are the two of you deciding things about me behind my back?!"_

_"Molly, do you know what you want?"_  

She looks into his eyes,  _"I know I don't want you to leave me."_

_"I'm not leaving you, I told you yesterday and the day before, and I'll tell you every day, I'm here for as long as you want me."_  He has to stop and calm his breath; with her in his arms, he suddenly loses the logic that made it clear why he has to leave and give her time. 

.

_"_ _Molly, you need to know something, about us,"_

_"I already know."_  

He stops dead in his tracks _,"What?"_

_"I already know."_

_"What do you mean you already know? What do you know?"_

_"I... we,"_  she's suddenly unsure,  _"you and I were together on tour together two years ago, you were my captain, I saved your life, it... created a bond between us and you were important to me, and that's why I made myself forget you, because you were important, so they wouldn't find out anything important; I talked about it with Stravinsky,"_  

_"No, Molly. I mean, yes, that's all correct, but Molly, that's not all of it. We fell in love on that tour, you and I, before I got shot. We became lovers after that tour. Molly, we share a life, we have a house, there's a ring,"_

_"A ring?"_  she echoes him, not following. 

He looks at her, unable to decide if it's the right thing to do. Then he slips his hand into his pocket and takes out a small blue square box. He holds it open in front of her, his eyes fixed on the ring. 

" _I never got the chance to ask you. We made a pact to never ask big things out of fear before tours, so I waited, and then..."_  he looks up at her, sees her transfixed by the ring.  _"I'm not asking now, Molly, you're not ready, but I thought you should know. This is what you forgot, this is what you were protecting."_

_"I didn't know,"_  she says apologetically, looking up at him _, "I don't remember. I'm sorry,"_

_"I know, I know, Molls, I'm not angry. But you have to find it again on your own, you have to want to fight for it, to find it. To see if you want to find us again."_  

She nods silently, wiping her tears away, determination flashing through her eyes, a decision forming in her mind. 

_"I have one more thing for you before we go back."_  He says, putting the ring back in his pocket and reaching for the carton box next to him. He takes out envelopes bound together by a rubber band.  _"I, uh, I used to write you letters, when you were away on tour, it was kind of our thing. You have most of them at home, you keep them in a tin box under the bed. But I wrote these when you were gone. There was no point in sending them, but I... anyway, they're for you, I want you to have them."_  

Molly nods silently, carefully taking the bundle from him, looking it over, then holding it close against her chest. 

_"You ready to go back?"_  he asks, wondering how the joy of their walk here seems to be only a distant memory now; The balance between them having shifted again.

They walk in silence back to her room, he can see her mind working on the information she's been exposed to, her hand clasping the letters tight against her heart. When they reach the room they stand awkwardly for a moment. 

_"Molly,"_  he speaks so low it's almost a whisper, but she raises her eyes to him, searching his face, it makes him self-conscious. Then he clears his throat, trying to avoid everything being so difficult,  _"you have my number, I'll be a phone call away. I mean it, any time, day or night, all day and all night if you wish,"_  he grins.  _"I'm not disappearing. And I'll see you on the tarmac at Brize in less than a week. I'll be the handsome one in dress uniform."_  

She nods but lowers her eyes to the floor,  _"Please say something, Molly."_  She raises her eyes to him again _,_ they're full of sorrow and regret and also determination _._

_"I won't forget you this time. I won't forget you ever again."_  You'd think she was joking, but her features are solemn, it's like she's taking an oath. 

He leans in and wraps his arms around her, hugging her.  _"Well, thank fuck for that."_  he mumbles lightly into her hair.

...

A few moments after he's left, she's still sitting on her bed, thoughts running through her head when the door opens again and he steps determinately back into the room. She looks at him confused, as he comes closer to the bed.

_"Molls, may I be incredibly inappropriate for just one moment?"_  She sees a twinkle in his eye and she nods the slightest, most weary nod, but it's all he needs; he takes her face in his hands and sets his lips gently to hers. 

It begins as a delicate flutter, tenderly caressing her lips, he then coaxes her to respond and explore, waiting for her to join him and grant him access. His skin tingling with heat and light when she does, her hands wrapping around him, their bodies melt into each other as they hold each other close, clinging to each other's lips. It develops slowly, taking the time to explore the possibilities enveloped in each step, the effects and reactions of each motion; licking, dipping, sucking, nibbling, they re-learn their possibilities and each other. 

Eventually, he pulls away with a moan, separating from her with delicate kisses down her jawline and up her neck, until he reaches her ear, whispering, " _Just to help you not forget."_  He smirks as he pulls back, winking at her before he leaves.


	18. Reading

She had fallen asleep clutching the envelopes to her chest. As much as she wanted to begin reading last night, her nut was too full, her heart skipping inside, to be able to concentrate on written words. She lay in bed and went over and over every moment and detail of the evening until exhaustion took over. And today he was gone. She'd slept through his take-off.

_Maybe it's for the best?_  She thinks, _No dramatic goodbyes._ But as much as her brain fights to convince her, her heart feels sad and left-behind. She wonders at the impact he's had on her in the few days since he's come into her life.  _Came back into my life_ , she corrects herself. Her hand hovering back to the letters. She's hesitant to read them, trepidatious to what they might hold in them; information she's missing, promises of her past, the true identity of the man she feels so close and safe with and maybe some hints to her own identity, things she doesn't yet realize she's lost.

She's reminded of his words to her and decides to go for a walk, find a private place to read his letters. Her feet take her automatically to his, now empty Portakabin, and she's happy to find the ladder still there. Sitting on the roof in the early morning sun, she can see the desert spread as far as the horizon, the yellow hills of Afghan engulfing the camp.

Opening the envelopes, she finds the letters dated, from that horrible day in November, up until a few days before her rescue. His handwriting varying according to the feelings his expressing or fighting with, at times obviously induced by alcohol or lack of sleep. As she reads she begins to realize, not only the extent of their connection but the ends he's gone to, to find her; what he's been through in all these months she'd forgotten him.

...

 

22\. Nov

_Baby,_

_I know you hate it when I call you that, but I can't bring myself to write your name at the top of this letter. It will make it real. I'd much rather imagine your wicked glare and your voice telling me off for it. Two and a half weeks Molls, that's all you had left before you were meant to come home. Two and a half weeks. 17 days. I was counting._

_I thought Beck was taking the piss when he called, I wouldn't believe him. I'm waiting for you to knock on the door and cheekily ask if I've missed you. I keep ringing your mobile with the hope it's all a mistake, a prank, a sick joke. But it goes directly to voicemail. Buried somewhere in your Bergen probably. I can't believe you're not there, Molly. I think of your platoon, returning to camp, each taking their pit, and you are not there, your pit stands empty, your gear immaculate._

_Where are you?_

_I don't know why I'm writing, where would I send the letter to? I keep thinking about that moment, of you not being at the other end of the address, the letter starting its return journey back to me, without you. But I'm desperate to talk to you, to hold you, to kiss you, to tell you I love you. If I had 200 years with you Molly, it wouldn't be enough; but we'll get them, Molly. We're going to find you. There is nothing in this world that will hold me back from finding you if it's the last thing I do. And when we do, I'm not waiting again to ask you. I want you with me, Molly, I need you with me, for the rest of our lives, together. You hear me? Wherever you are, don't give up. Hold on to that wonderful flare in you, the one that makes you feisty and mad, makes you stand your ground and makes men twice your size wish for sanctuary. Hold on to the memories Dawes, hold on to my love for you, let it keep you strong and safe and alive. Let it give you the unequivocal notion that I'm coming for you._

_I'll go to your parents tomorrow. I'll be there when they get the visit. I'll take care of them, Molly, you don't have to worry. You just have to fight to come back. If you fight from your side and I fight from mine, we'll find our way to each other again, I'm sure of it. I won't have it any other way. Fight Molly. "Rage, against the dying of the light." And come back to me._

_I don't want to finish this letter, I don't want it to have an end, everything is suddenly threatening with a finality that I'm vehement to oppose. You are alive. And you are coming back._

_I love you. I love you every day more and more. I love you up close and from afar. I'm so proud of the work you've done, the person you are. Beck told some of what happened, that even in this extreme situation, you fought to save a wounded soldier. I'm not surprised. I saw it happen more than once before my eyes. I'm still in awe, every day. And I'm grateful and happy you chose me to share your life with, to love, to let me love you (though, even if you didn't let me, I'm not sure I'd be able to stop). So fight Molly, for all of that. For your life and all the great things, you are still meant to do._

_I'm not waiting for you Molly, I'm coming for you. I'm on my way,_

_Eternally, every moment of every second of every minute of every day, yours,_

_CJ_

_..._

 

_25\. Dec_

_It's Christmas Molly. 35 days that you've been gone._

_They've made me come back home for Christmas but it's not home without you. It's not home with the thought of you lost somewhere in that desert. Not knowing if you're alright, if you're hurt, if you're scared, if you even know it's Christmas. I couldn't go to our house, it was an empty meaningless building without you. I came to Bath to be with my parents and Sam but everything here reminds me of you. Of last Christmas here. Of our first date. Of our first night together. Everything in the world reminds me of you, Molly because you are the only thing on my mind._

_I don't think I've ever held Sam so tight like I held him today. I think I may have overwhelmed him a little. After all the tours I've done and all the shit I've seen, only on this mission, looking for you, did I realize just how big that desert is and how small we are in comparison. But I'm not giving up Molls, I know you're alive and I'll find you. There were moments in the desert I could hear your voice carry on the wind. I heard your laughter through the treetops (even those that would give you the willies). I tried to look at Afghan like you did, with open eyes and a clean heart, but all I felt was fury at those mountains hiding you from me. I looked up at the stars Molly, our stars, and everything felt so big and impossible. Can you see the stars Molly, do you remember the way home?_

_I hate the thought of a year beginning without you being here. I see people go to mass, or the market, or through the park and all I want to do is yell at them to stop. Yell that life cannot go on as is if you are not here. The normal cannot exist along the abnormal. But I don't have the energy to yell at strangers. All I want to do is sleep and slip into a world where you are with me. To see you smiling at me, your green eyes teasing me, your fingers entwined in mine._

_I'll go tomorrow to see your parents again. I was there when the knock came. Belinda was surprised to see me but I couldn't tell her, I couldn't bear the words to my lips. I waited there with them until the CNO came and then we just sat there for hours; Belinda crying, your nan, and Dave and I just silent. I don't think I've ever seen him so silent Molls, he didn't even want to drink. It was like he'd lost his light the moment he heard the news. Like all the air left him at once. I don't think you realize just how much you mean to him. I know he's difficult, but I think he's just struggling with his inability to tell you. I think that's what got to him the most Molls, the thought that he's pissed his chance to tell you._

_But he hasn't because you're coming back. And we'll all tell you. Over and over again I'll tell how incredibly awesome you are, how much better you've made my life, how you make me a better person and how much deeper I fall in love with you every day. I will never stop telling you, Molly._

_..._

_3\. March_

_Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?_

_Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me. Come back to me._

_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you._

_..._

 

_22\. March_

_Molly my love,_

_I knew you were alive, I never doubted it for a moment and now I've seen it on that tape. As much as I hated watching it, seeing what they've done to you, what they're doing to you still, I've watched it over and over just to see your face. Your beautiful face my love, your eyes. I'm so proud of you for fighting and holding on. It feels so empty to say it, but I am. I'm grateful that you have. Is that selfish Molly? Am I selfish for being happy to have seen you alive? At the thought of getting you back? You're coming back. We're closer than ever. I don't know if it's the tape but I can feel you closer. My skin is tingling from the inside at the thought of you. I just know I'll be holding you again soon. I won't stop until I do, I'll turn over every bloody rock if that's what it takes. We've been up and down this bloody country and if I never set foot in the desert again it will be too soon Molly, but I'm not leaving without you. This country is the backdrop of our story Molls, it brought us together and I'll be damned if it will tear us apart._

_I must sleep but I can't. It's been 4 months today that you've been gone. This is the first in four nights that we're in camp but I can't bring myself to rest. If I could, I'd be out there again right now, looking for you. I'm holding myself not to go out and yell your name into the darkness. I think I could yell it forever. Maybe they'll bring you back to me just to make me stop yelling. You'd think I've gone mad. And I probably have. I talk to you constantly in my head; Everywhere – when we're out there, when we take a break, at night to the stars. I ask for signs from you, to show me if we're getting closer, if you've crossed the paths we're searching. You keep me sane Molly and grounded. You've taught me to look at the details that make up the picture, to look at the hearts of people, even when their heads are hot and hard. It's the one thing that has kept me calm while I've been here. Has kept me from breaking down every door looking for you, without thinking of the consequences, of the innocent lives behind them._

_It's incredibly difficult to distinguish between the innocent folk of this country and those waging war against us, now that they've got you. I'm fighting hard not to blame every man and child I see in the villages. I think I'm one step closer to understanding Smurf as he shot that goat on the bridge. The anger is like fuel, it's very easy to lose sight of when it's turned on you to consume you. The verge is close Molls, the line is very thin but I'm holding on, I'm not giving up or letting go. The thought of you, Molly, keeps me focused so I can bring you back alive. So you have to keep holding on as well. Hold on tight, Molly, keep fighting. We're almost there. I'm sure of it._

_"I love you more than words can say,"_

_I love you,_

_Charles_

_..._

 

The last letter, dated to the day before, is scribbled in hurried handwriting, as though he'd wanted to write but was simultaneously torn to be somewhere else. She can read his excitement through the words.

...

 

_27\. April_

_Lovely, beautiful, breathtaking, Molly,_

_I hope you can forgive me for going away. I really do think it's for the best, a few days apart to let you find your own two feet. There really isn't anything you can't do without me, but I hope you will eventually choose to include me in your life._

_These letters will perhaps give you a hint to where we were and what we may recover if you wish it. I do, Molly, nothing has changed for me, except the rising amount of love I feel for you. Now more than ever. And if you don't remember I'll be happy for the chance to make you fall in love with me all over again._

_I'm not sorry for the way I feel and can't bring myself to apologize for it, though I know it might be unfair and overwhelming, that's not my intention. I hope the letters are not too much; I've been contemplating censoring some of them but they were written for you, and if this is goodbye (which I hope to hell it's not), then I want you to have them, to make your decision knowing._

_I don't want to waste more time writing when I can go and be with you now. I have no words to portray the happiness I feel to see you back and on your way to recovery._

_"My affections and wishes are unchanged," Molly, I love you,_

_See you soon, at home!_

_Yours, yours, yours,_

_Charles (Josef!) J._


	19. Ringing

_"James."_

_"Charles?"_

_"Molly? Are you okay?'_

_"Yes I'm fine, am I interrupting? Were you already asleep?"_

_"No, Molly, it's fine. Why are you whispering? What time is there? It must be the middle of the nig-"_

_"Charles, I remember."_

He never thought hearing three words over an unsteady international mobile line, would have the ability to make him so happy, to take a weight off his shoulders he hadn't realized he'd been carrying, to allow him to release a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, to enable him to breathe deeper and freer, to feel, just to feel, anything and everything at once. And all that even before he knows the details of what she's talking about. 

_"What do you remember, Molly?"_  he hopes he doesn't sound completely idiotic, he feels giddy and can't seem to wipe the smile off his face. He sits down on the edge of the bed, preparing himself for anything she might say, listening intently.

_"I, there was a ditch. And it was dead dark. And the section was there, 2 section? And suddenly there was thunder but we didn't know yet it was thunder, it was just really loud and it came out of nowhere and it scared the shit out of me."_  He closes his eyes, realizing what she's talking about, wondering to what extent she remembers that moment and their exchange after that.  _"It scared the life out of me, I thought it was the end. And I looked at you, and,"_

_"What, Molly?"_  now he's the one whispering. 

_"Charles, I remember feeling it, I remember the feeling, of knowing, that you were it for me, that you were the only thing I wanted. That I,-"_

_"Want you to be the last thing I see."_

There is a moment of silence, both of them contemplating the meaning of those words in regard to the last six months. He's lying back on his bed, his legs still folded over the edge, his fingers at the bridge of his nose, a single tear runs down his cheek and into his ear, and though there is relief, it's not necessarily happiness that he's feeling now. 

_"Molly,"_

_"You said that to me then, in that bunker. I remember that too. You broke regulation and told me you had a son and that I was all that you wanted and then you kissed me. That was our first kiss, in a hell hole in Afgan."_  

He's nodding with her words, recalling it all, overwhelmed at how much she remembers, that it's not just details or facts that had happened, she remembers how she felt, what she felt for him.

_"Molly,"_ he whispers, holding onto the solace her name gives him. He curls up onto the bed, suddenly extremely tired, spent, miserable, as though he's the one making the effort of remembering. All he wants is to hold her in his arm, feel the warmth of her body, the smoothness of her skin, the steadiness of her heartbeat. Proof that she's alive. It feels like she's coming back to him.

_"You have a son."_  It's not a question. Not an accusation, just a fact. It dawns on him that, again, he hadn't had the chance to talk to her about Sam, or Rebecca, for that matter, but Rebecca really doesn't matter now. Just that they need to fill the same holes all over again.

_"Yes, Sam. He's almost 9 now, he lives with his mother. I see him mostly on weekends."_  He takes a pause, tries to listen for a reaction. Her tone was flat and factual but not accusing and he tries to match it, let the things be open without any overpowering weight, " _You actually like him. You guys are quite good friends."_

_"Molly? Please say something."_

_"I don't remember him. Sorry."_

_"That's okay. I like the things you do remember. How are you feeling?"_

_._

_"Charles, what did you mean when you said dress uniform? What's gonna happen when I get to Brize?"_

He sighs at how she's changed the subject; Though she's completely with him, she's not letting him in. He wonders what her conversations with Stravinsky have been like in the recent days. _"There will be a ceremony, to welcome you back. It's a national event, with the P.M. Unfortunately, there will be press, you're considered a hero, they want to celebrate your return."_

_"I don't want any of that."_

_"I know you don't. I'm sorry, but it can't be helped, I've tried. I've arranged for the ceremony to start after you've seen your family, not before, so when you come out of that plane, you'll meet them first, no press. And afterward, the official ceremony will start."_

_"I'm not a hero. I was terrified half the time and crying my eyes out the rest. No, scratch that, I was terrified all the time."_

_"I know Molls, but you survived. You're coming back, alive. To a lot of people that makes you a hero. And your actions saved Ben's life. So to them, you definitely are a hero."_

_"Will he be there?"_

_"Yes. He contacted me yesterday to say he'd like to meet you at Brize."_

_"What do I say to him?"_

_"Nothing if you don't want to Molly, you don't have to say anything to anybody. Everybody will understand if it's difficult. Ben just wants to thank you."_

..

_"I hate being away from you, Molly. I can't explain how much."_

_"I think you can; I've read your letters."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yeah. You're really open, aren't you?"_

_He laughs lightly, "Only with you Molly. I think that's the last word anyone else would ever use if you asked them about me. But you, you've snuck under my skin, it's like you're a part of me, I don't think I could hold anything from you. I don't want to. I want to share everything with you, I talk to you in my head all the time."_

..

_"_ _There's one more thing, Charles,"_  he can hear the fear in her voice, and something else he can't quite identify _, "I remembered something else."_  her voice now really small, indicating she doesn't want to continue.

_"Whatever it is, Molly, you can tell me. I'm right here,"_

_"I remember deciding to forget."_

He can't react. It hurts as if he'd been sucker-punched in the gut, painfully squeezing at his heart, cutting off air circulation from his lungs. But he knows he has to hear this, that she needs him, she needs to tell him, she needs him to hear it, so they'd be able to get past it. He realizes what was lining her voice aside from fear; Guilt. He doesn't want to hold it against her. As unfair as it is, he wants to be able to accept her having chosen to forget him. He can't begin to imagine the circumstances under which she'd thought that was a solution. He realizes it burns in him with resentment and he wants to be free of it, to be able to let it go, to get her back. 

_"Tell me,"_  his voice strained as he struggles to keep his emotions and temper in check, to allow her to go on.

_"Those first few days, when I was kept in that pit in the desert, I was alone for hours, in the dark, I couldn't move or do anything. The only thing I could do was think, remember, hold on to anything I knew, just to fight the silence from doing my head in. Most of the time I thought about you; I replayed every moment I could remember having with you. I imagined your smile and your hands and the way you made me feel. I imagined being in your arms, safe._ _And then I'd think how worried you'll be when you find out what happened, not knowing where I am. How scared you'll be, not knowing if I'm okay. And that made me afraid. The thought of you scared for me made me afraid. And then I realized that if they figure it out, they'll use it as a weakness; If they know that I'm afraid for myself, that I'm holding on to something from home, they'll find a way to use it against me. And they'd win. So when they pulled me out that pit and into the car, I closed down. I decided to shut everything out. To just be a shell. To not care what they did to me. To not be able to lose anything to them, because I didn't hold anything that was mine anymore. I don't know if it makes sense now. It made sense in the dark."_

_"Charles? Please say something."_

Like that moment in that godforsaken shed when he'd brought her out, he feels the criticality of this moment; now it's his reaction that will determine their future, deem him trustworthy and deserving or lay between them like an open crater. 

_"Thank you for telling me,"_  he whispers, knowing it's not enough, unable to find any more words to express his feeling and thoughts.

_"Are you mad?"_

_"No, I'm not mad,"_  his voice is void of any emotion, it's just words,  _"really, I'm not, I just, I need time. I don't want to hold it against you, I understand it's what kept you alive and brought you back, it's just, it's really sad Molly,"_ the tears come, letting out what he couldn't in all the months she's been gone and ever since she's been back.  _"It hurts, Molls,"_  he lays in a ball on the bed, holding the phone to his ear, sobbing, his pain flowing from him,  _"it hurts so fucking much."_

_"I'm sorry,"_

_"No, Molly,"_ he gets a grip on himself, sees himself from the outside, lying on the bed crying like a child, he quickly wipes the tears away, ashamed of his behavior. If it was anyone else on the other side of the line, he would never have let himself fall apart like that,  _"don't apologize, you don't need to apologize. I'm sorry, this isn't fair to you."_

_"It's not fair to you either, Charles. I understand now why you pulled back when I kissed you. I understand it's been rough on you too. I didn't mean to lean on you so much."_

_"I don't mind."_

_"I mind."_

_"What do you mean?"_

Pause _._

_"Molly, when I said I'm here as long as you need me, I didn't say it just for you. I said it because I want to be here. I want you to want me here. I want you. But I understand you need time, you need to figure things out for yourself. Look just how much you've recovered in two days. I'm willing to wait, Molly; I'll wait for however long it takes. No pressure."_

_"That already is some pressure."_

_"No Molly, it's love. It's how I feel. When I think about it, It's not even about waiting, it's just the way I feel. It's like what I said on our first date in the restaurant in Bath. Do you remember that? I said something about the future and you said I'm being previous, and I answered it's-"_

_"Chemistry."_

_"Yes, it's just how I feel."_

The words hang between them, finding their weight with each of them.

_"You remember."_ His voice is lined with hidden hope.

_"It was just there when you talked."_

Pause.

_"Will I still see you, on Thursday? Will you come to Brize?"_

_"if you want me there."_

_"I do."_

_"Then I'll be there."_

_"Handsome in dress uniform."_

_"Yes."_

_"Okay,"_

_"Okay."_

_"I think I can go back to sleep now. Thank you, Charles."_

_"Good night Molly."_

_"Good night. Oh, and Charles?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"I do miss you."_

_"Ditto, Molly. All the time."_

_"Good night,"_

"Good night,"

They both stay on the line for a moment, for a short while, for a small eternity, unwilling to sever the connection and let go.


	20. Ripple Effect

_"Molly?"_

After minutes of sitting without a word, Stravinsky decides to break the silence. Molly's eyes move to gaze at her but she still refuses to speak, a speck of anger gleaming in her pupils. 

_"You want to talk about why you're so upset?"_

" _I'm not upset, I just don't have anything to say."_

_"Dawes, we're here for you, if you don't want to talk that's fine, we can reschedule, but do us both a favor and don't waste our time."_  

_"Why did you make him leave?"_ It bursts out before she can resist. 

_"I didn't make him leave. It was a mutual decision because we both thought it best. I understand it's not to your liking, but it has as much to do with him as it does with me. I suppose he hasn't been privileged to this heartfelt treatment?"_  

Molly's eyes sink back to the floor and Stravinsky seizes the opportunity to start again, furious with herself over her unprofessional remark. She's not sure what it is really, just that the silent treatment she's been condemned to, being blocked out of whatever it is that Dawes is going through, has made her edgy and offended in a way that has never occurred with a patient. 

_"Have you been in contact with James since he's left?"_

_"Yes."_

_"_ _And?"_

_"And it was awkward and confusing and,"_ Molly huffs and falls silent, Stravinsky can see she's not yet broaching what's really on her mind. 

_"Did anything happen between you two before he left?"_

The look in Molly's eyes as she looks up at her tells Stravinsky more than words could ever say but she waits for Molly's answer. 

_"He gave me letters to read, letters he'd written while I was... away. How he'd heard what happened, how he's looking for me, how he feels." "_

_And how did reading those letters make you feel?_ " 

Molly folds into herself again, her voice small,  _"Guilty."_

_"Why?"  
_

_"You wanna a list? Because I never took into consideration that me being taken had such effect on anyone else. I mean, I know people care, my family missed me, the army looked for me, but he, he stopped his life to find me, he was away from his family for months in the desert, he's been through as much as I have with worry and I forgot him, I fucking let myself forget him. How unfair is that?! And,"_

_"And what?"_

_"_ _I remember, after reading the letters, I remembered what I felt for him before, I remember being in love with him, wanting him, knowing that he's the one for me but,"_

Stravinsky senses the delicacy of the moment, Molly voicing what's really bothering her, the source of self-doubt, she waits for Molly to gather the courage to say it out loud, 

_"_ _But remembering it and feeling it are two different things. There's, like, this gap, between where I was then and where I am now, what I know I felt then. I know the feeling in my head, but not, as a feeling, you know?_   _And I feel his expectations, I know he wants that, he wants me to be that again, but I, I, I don't know that I am, I don't know what I feel, that I feel what he wants me to."_  

She falls silent, her doubts now exposed, her words ringing in her ears.

" _It's not about what he wants you to feel, Molly. You're not obliged to feel anything and it's okay to be confused and angry and feel guilty."_ Molly's eyes shoot into hers at that last remark.  _"I'm not saying I agree with your reasoning of the guilt, but I understand where it's coming from and we'll have to work on stripping it down to dismantle it."_

They sit a moment in silence, both thinking about Molly's words, Stravinsky trying to decide what to address first.

_"I think there is one thing you might be missing in your description,"_ Molly raises her eyes carefully to Stravinsky and she can see her pain as she waits for some relief _, "I don't think James sees his time looking for you in the desert, as time away from his family. If I'm not mistaking, I believe he sees you as his family and that's why he was out there. You've both made the necessary decisions to keep yourselves alive in an extreme situation, Molly. You had to guard yourself against being weak in the eyes of your captures, and he had to join the rescue team to find you._

_"It was his choice, Molly. You have to remember that, at the end of the day, you are not responsible for his choices, he is. So there is nothing for you to feel guilty about him looking for you in the desert, he chose to do what he felt he had to do, for his sake as much as for yours."_

_"He was going to propose. Before my tour, he was waiting for me to come back to ask me to spend the rest of our lives together."_

_"Did he tell you this?"_

Molly nods, tears slowly gathering in her eyes _, "He showed me the ring. Said he wasn't asking now, that I'm not ready but he wanted me to know where we were, where we left off, how much I'd forgotten. What does that make me, what kind of weak horrible person am I that I chose to forget him, us?"_ she can't hold the tears a bay any longer _._

_"Let's address that for a moment, Molly. Do you really think you made that choice out of weakness? Or is that what you fear he sees in you?"_

When Molly doesn't answer Stravinsky goes on.

_"Let me ask it differently, do you remember what you were thinking at that moment when you decided?"_

Molly nods slowly, _"I was thinking about him, about home. I suddenly thought how scared for me he'd be, and angry when he'd hear what happened, how he'd go out of his mind with worry, and that really scared me, that really hurt. I remember it was really dark in that pit but I wasn't scared of that, it was the thought of the distance between us, the impossibility, the unknown that scared me._

_"And I started crying, I cried for ages, days I guess. The only times I stopped was when I heard the car arriving above me. Then I'd pull myself together thinking I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. And then, one day I just knew that they were going to move me, that things would be different and I knew I couldn't let them see me scared or crying because it'd encourage them._

_"Obviously later I cried with pain and they seemed to fucking enjoy that. But I knew I had to let go of anything that would make me vulnerable, weak."_

_"So you decided against weakness to protect yourself?" Stravinsky summarizes Molly's words, "Does that sound to you like a weak or easy decision to make? You doomed yourself to loneliness to fight for your life, also rejecting the comfort such memories might bring when things get hard."_

Molly doesn't seem to notice what Stravinsky is pointing at, she answers matter of factly.

_"Yeah, cause they'd have seen it and used it against me, they looked for anything, anything to use against me, to make me give up. So I thought if I didn't hold on to anything, they couldn't take nothing away. It'd be less painful if it were my decision, and not me losing control to them. Maybe that doesn't make sense now."_

_"It's not about sense, Molly, it's about survival. In everything you've said there is not one weak decision. It seemed you made a calculated decision to protect yourself emotionally because you understood that was what would keep you alive. That's not only admirable it's impressive. Not many people would have the sense, the instinctive understanding to do that."_

Molly's lips curl up slightly, but her eyes grow darker. 

Stravinsky carefully goes on, " _I don't think you have anything to feel guilty about Molly. Yes, it's hard you've forgotten your life with James but you're getting it back, rather quickly even, from what I'm hearing, and you have to ask yourself if it's really worth wasting time on guilt when the alternative could have been that you'd not have survived at all. You might look at this as another chance for the two of you. What do you think of that?"_  

_"Hadn't thought of it like that. That'd make us fucking lucky. Between him being shot and me being taken, I guess we should be grateful we're still here, still have a chance."_

_"Yeah, I would say so. Now, you want to talk about Thursday? Brize, your family?"_

_"Nahh, Charles explained all that. What's gonna happen afterward, though? With treatment and stuff?"_

_"Well, you're going to go home for a few days at least and then you'll need to report for check up at Headly Court so they can decide what your_ _rehabilitation will look like. The good news is,"_ she exhales as she says it, wondering if Molly will see it as good news, _"that I'll be accompanying you back. My time here is almost up, we've arranged my return with yours so you and I will be able to keep to our treatment process in the UK. Thought it might be easier on you, not having to change therapist mid-process."_ She looks hopefully over at Molly who's nodding absentmindedly, not revealing any special reaction to the news.


	21. Refresh

_"Margi?"_

_"Yes, sweety?"_

_"You think, maybe, um..."_

_"What it is honey?"_ the nurse stops what she's doing to look at Molly biting the sides of her mouth as she gathers her courage.

_"You think maybe you could cut my hair before I go?"_ She smiles shyly as Margi's eye twinkle at her.

_"You excited to get back?"_  a soft smile accompanies her question.

_"Yeah,"_  Molly says quietly, worry filling her eyes. Margi hurries to change the subject.

_"Well, as much as I'd like to help get you pretty and prepared for your great return, I'm not one to be trusted with scissors, and I say this from experience. But I can ask Butcher to come, I'm sure I can work my magic to make him leave his shack to tend to you."_

_"Butcher?"_  Molly's expression now reflects her anxiety, bringing Margi to laughter.

_"Oh, don't be alarmed, Ralf is the camp's hairdresser, he's actually as gentle as a deer, or at least he can be but dealing mainly with crew cuts, he's known as 'Butcher'. He's the only one I trust with my hair during my time here and trust me, the Afghan dust and grime are no picnic with my curls."_ She stops to look at Molly to see if her flood of words had managed to calm the girl, her mood being fragile ever since captain James left back to the UK.  _"So, should I ask him?"_

_"Yeah, I guess. I can't really show up like this, can I? First impressions an' that..."_  Margi sees the flicker of worry in her eyes again. 

_"They'll all just be happy to see you, love. That's all they care about,"_  she warmly squeezes Molly's shoulder, trying to reassure her. Molly catches her fingers on her shoulder and smiles back, trying to bury the worry eating at her.

_"Yeah, thanks."_

The next morning, coming back from her morning walk, Molly finds the nurses in the nurses' station huddled around a middle-aged man laughing loudly. She quickens her pace and smiles to herself as she nears the station, though she can't help look up as she passes. It's then Margi notices her, grabbing the man by the arm, bringing Molly to a stop.

_"Ralf, this is her, your next client. I'd like you to meet private Dawes."_  

As she raises her eyes to his, she sees the greenest eyes looking back at her, as though she's looking into a mirror. It catches her in such surprise, she fumbles with words. 

_"Well, that's not a sight you see every day,"_  he beams at her with a strong welsh accent, noting her surprise and confusion,  _"you sure we're not related, love?"_  he laughs lightly making Molly feel immediately at ease.

_"You better hope not, with my lot at home."_  

They then move together towards her room, Margi following suit after them.

_"So, love, what do we have here?"_  Butcher says as he washes her hair in the sink, taking notice of her splits ends, and uneven cut. He flashes a look a Margi.  _"Nothing we can't bring under control,"_  he smiles as he wraps Molly head in a towel. He then comes to sit in front of her, looking into her eyes. 

_"We're going to need to make it quite short,"_  he says earnestly, "to enable it to later grow back in some form. The good news is, it'll bring out your eyes even more. What do you think?" 

Molly just nods lightly, a weary hand rising to her hair. 

_"With eyes like ours, we have to make it count,"_  he smiles at her as he takes his place behind her,  _"you ready?"_  Molly nods again, straightening her back in the seat, a determined expression settling on her face.

.

_"You're a West Hammer, I see,"_  he says tilting his head in the direction of the bed where the T-shirt is folded,.

_"Yeah, you one of us?"_

_"God no. Newport till I die,"_  he laughs, " _You can take the lad out of Newport but you can't take Newport out of the lad._ " 

" _You remind me of a friend of mine. I think. Welsch wanker,"_  Molly says lightly.

_"And proud of it."_  he retorts. 

They then fall into a short silence. 

_"So how long haven't you been home love,"_ Ralf asks carefully. 

Molly notices his apprehension, not sure how much he knows, but sensing he's trying to make normal conversation. 

_"11 months,"_  she says quietly, sending a glance at Margi's direction. 

_"And, is there anyone special waiting for you there?"_  he asks, his voice cheeky and encouraging. 

_"Uhhh, my lot, of course, mum, dad, Nan, the little bleeders... haven't seen them in a while, have I?"_

_"Oh come on, you stingy cow, don't go shy on me now, share with Ralf."_  He laughs lightly behind her as he works his way around her head with scissors, making her chuckle before she goes serious again.

_"I, uh, I don't really, it's..."_

_"Of course there is, Ralf,"_  Margi's voice barges in,  _"bloody gorgeous one too, isn't he Molly? No doubt about where his heart lays, though. Clear as daylight the moment he sets eyes on you. It's like electricity Ralf, it's not half dangerous to be in the vicinity when these two meet."_ She smiles widely, making Molly's cheeks fill with color. 

_"_ _Is that so, Molly? Well well well, with my work here, he won't be able to take his eyes off of you. That's my word right there."_

_"That's not aiming high Ralf, the captain can't take his eyes off her anyway."_

_"A captain is he then? Now we're getting somewhere. Come on Molly, spill the beans, don't leave me hanging."_

Molly bites her lips as she smiles, unsure,  _"I don't know, things are kinda complicated right now, not sure what he's thinking."_  

Margi can sense Molly's unease and insecurity, she addresses her worries with a more serious tone,  _"Oh Molly, he'll be thrilled to see you, there is no doubt about that. Whatever there is between you two, that man loves you like I've never seen a man love anything._

_"I practically had to pull him away from here the morning before his flight. And you guys will have all the time in the world to figure things out, don't worry."_  She smiles encouragingly at Molly, who cherishes her words and tries to change the atmosphere.

_"He is bloody gorgeous, I'll give you that,"_  she smiles cheekily _, "don't know how I'm able to keep my hands off him, really."_  she giggles. 

_"Ah-ha! there it is!"_  Ralf cries out,  _"Well, we'll have a surprise waiting for him when you come off that plane. You ready?"_ he asks and offers her his hand to take her over to the mirror. With a deep breath, she goes with him, standing before the mirror as he moves the curtain in front of it. 

He was right, she's astonished to see how her eyes stand out against the dark frame of her exceedingly short pixie cut. 

She'd thought she'd miss the length and weight of her hair, feel embarrassingly exposed, but there is something empowering and sexy about how the femininity of her head now stands out, it's almost emancipating.

...

_"So, you ready for tomorrow?"_  Margi asks that evening as she finishes up in Molly's room.

_"Bricking it actually, but also kinda excited I guess."_

_"_ _Yeah, I bet. You'll do fine,"_ Margi says reassuringly as she puts her hand on Molly's. 

She looks bashful for a moment, Molly has never seen her so reserved. In all the time she's been in the hospital, Margi was always loud and expressive, cocky even at times. Molly knows it has to do with goodbye; even though it's unspoken, the two have come to share a connection. 

_"Hey, Margi,"_  Molly starts slowly, finding bashfulness suddenly contagious,  _"I uh, I want to thank you, for everything, really. I'm glad it was you that was responsible for me, glad that I met you. I couldn't have done it without you. So, thank you."_  

Molly smiles at Margi, as the older woman wipes her eyes quickly.

_"Yeah, Molly, it's been... it's actually been a real honor to take care of you. I wasn't sure about you at the beginning, you kept pulling at you IV and pissing me off. But, really, you are an unbelievably strong, beautiful woman. It radiates off you and pulls people in._

_"You deserve every happiness in the world, and you deserve the love that man feels for you. You may not need it, him, that's up to you to choose, but know that you deserve him and his love. Don't doubt that for a second, hon, okay?"_  

It's Molly turn to wipe her eyes, she brings Margi's hand up to her forehead and then to her lips as she nods.

_"Thank you."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - this is the end of Part I: Afghan, closing Dawes' time in Afghanistan. 
> 
> Next update, Part II: England! 
> 
> I'd love to hear your comments and critiques...


	22. PART 2: ENGLAND

PART 2: ENGLAND


	23. Reunion

_Easy, deep breaths, Molls, just, easy deep breaths, you can do this, this is easy, this is going home._

Fuck, she's nervous. She can barely sit on the wooden bench of the aircraft. Her fingers curled around the wood to literally hold her in place, prevent her from pacing.   
It's not so much the flying that's bothering her, or the landing, though she's not fond of the landing part, especially in this kind of military aircraft, sitting on long benches along the walls, not much holding you in place, your balance depending mainly on the inclination of the plane, your weight thrashing around with every dip and rise. Especially today, when the aircraft's so empty, there are no other bodies to lean and bash against to hold you in place. 

It's only her and Stravinsky, who's sat on the other side across from her and has practically been staring at Molly for the past hour or so. Molly knows she means well but, frankly, she's doing her nut in, making her even more stressed. Molly contemplates initiating conversation, but she really doesn't think she'd be able to hold it, in fact, she's not sure she'll be able to hold down her very light breakfast. There is quite a possibility that once she opens her gob, everything will come projecting out. Molly smiles at the thought of puke suspended in the air, 40,000 feet high. Then she closes her eyes and rocks lightly with the machine as they dip down for landing.

.

As she stands before the door, the plane now at a halt, she looks again at Stravinsky, not her first choice perhaps, but any eye contact will do now for a bit of encouragement. 

 _"Are you alright Dawes?"_  Stravinsky asks lightly, her voice giving Molly the power surge needed to collect herself and find her courage.

 _"Yeah,"_ she says, unwilling to go on, now impatient to get it over with. 

As the doors open, she takes one more deep breath and exits the aircraft into the light spring English sun. She wasn't sure what to expect, she remembers Chares promising her there wouldn't be any cameras or press at this point.  _At least that,_ she thinks, but as her eyes adjust to the light, she finds a sight no less embarrassing. It's being in the center of attention that bothers her. Her eyes follow the line of saluting soldiers all the way down to where she can see her family standing, huddled together.   
She's not sure what she should do, not use to higher ranks saluting her first as a gesture of respect. She climbs down the flight of stairs and comes face to face with a saluting Major Beck.

 _"Sir."_  she stands before him saluting back. 

 _"At ease private,"_  he says, and then his tone changes to a more private, familiar one.  _"Welcome home Dawes, it's good to see you home."_  A small smile forms on his lips. 

 _"Thank you, sir. It's good to be home,"_  she smiles lightly back, her words sounding somewhat banal. Then she moves on to the next soldier in line, finding Charles saluting her, the slightest smirk on his face, his eyes twinkling. She quickly salutes back.  _"Sir."_  

But the moment his hand is down a huge grin breaks onto his lips. It not his most professional moment but he just can't help it.   
 _"Hi Dawes,"_  he says, biting his lower lip in an attempt to control his excitement. 

 _"Hi,"_  she answers, smiling bashfully back, her eyes then falling to the ground for some security. 

 _"You ready to see your family?"_  he asks.

 _"Yeah,"_  she shrugs lightly and waits for him to lead the way. They walk in silence over to where her family is standing, a row of unfamiliar soldiers saluting her on her way. But before she can even reach the group standing together, her mother breaks away, running toward her, crying.

 _"Molly! Molly! My Molls!"_  she cries as she flings herself into her daughter's arms, clutching tightly and pulling her in for a hug.  _"Oh Molly, I'm so happy to see you, baby. Oh, baby."_  Molly lets herself sink into the hug, the world fades away for a moment as she reacquaints herself with her mum's hold _._

 _"Alright mum?"_  it's perhaps the most stupid thing she could say, but it just comes out, naturally and homely. 

 _"I am now baby, I am now,"_  her mum answers as she kisses her cheeks.  _"Let me look at you for a moment,"_  she says, putting some space between her and her daughter _, "your hair! It's so short. And you've lost some weight haven't you baby, oh,"_  she hugs Molly again,  _"we'll put Nan responsible for your diet, you'll get your weight back in no time,"_  she says and Molly has to giggle at that.  _Mums will be mums_ , she thinks to herself, but she's grateful for the worry and care. It's then they make their way to the rest of the group, Molly stands for a tiny moment awkwardly before Dave but then he puts his arms around her, whispering in her ear. 

_"Oh Molls, I'm so happy you're alright."_

_"Cheers dad, I'm okay now,"_  she tells him, cherishing their new found peace, even if it's short. 

 _"Oi! give her here, you had your chance,"_ her Nan says loudly, her fingers prying Molly from her father hold. 

 _"Nan,"_  Molly says smiling, and it's all it takes for the tears to come. Happy tears, as both women hold each other and snivel. 

 _"All right you lot?"_  Molly says as she breaks away from her Nan's hug and addresses the children standing around expectingly. They slowly huddle in to give Molly a hug.  _"You good, Bells?"_  Molly asks quietly into to her sister's ear as she holds her, realizing how just how much she had missed her.

 _"Yeah, Molls, just missed you, haven't I?"_  Bella says as she wipes some tears away. 

Then Charles, having stood aside and given them all a moment, steps in.  _"Dawes, there's a room for you all, where you can have some time alone until the ceremony. Come on, I'll show you._ " He then leads the way into the terminal, crossing the main waiting area and into a small adjacent room.  _"I'll be back in a while to get you all for the ceremony, okay?"_  he says as he stands at the door. 

 _"Can't you stay for a moment?_ " she asks quietly, hating how uncomfortable things seem to be. 

 _"Sorry, duty calls, but I'll be back soon, don't worry."_  He kisses her lightly on the cheek before heading back the way he came.

 

About an hour later, having sat with her family in the privacy of the room, the conversation lulling between curious questions and make shifts answers, Charles pops his head through the door.

 _"Dawes, it's time. Belinda, you guys need to go out there, a lieutenant will find you to take you to your seats. Dawes, you're with me,"_  he smiles at her. 

 _"Oh, okay,"_  Bellinda says, hurriedly arranging everyone to leave,  _"We'll see you after Molls,"_  she kisses her on the cheek once again before they all leave the room. 

When he then goes to follow her family out the door, she takes hold of his sleeve, pulling him to a stand and closes the door, separating them from the others, giving them a private moment alone.  _"Can we just...?"_   Her eyes to the floor, her hand still holding onto the fabric on his arm, she tries again, her fingers moving to grasp his arm.  _"Charles, I,-"_  

He can feel her shaking beside him, fighting with the emotions inside her, his hand takes light hold of her waist. _"Molly, what is it?"_

 _"I need... can you, may I..."_  her hand moves along his arm, to his side, fluttering atop his uniform,  _"Can you hold me, for just a moment? I need to fee-"_     
His arms are around her before she can finish her question, pulling her to him, her head rests against his heart, she can hear it beating under her ear, his chin on her head. 

 _"You never have to hesitate to ask that Molly. Never."_ He feels her shifting against him, without pulling back she reaches her arms to his neck, silently asking him to raise her and when he does she clings to him desperately. 

 _"I just, I just,"_  her arms circling around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, her head against his neck, his head tucked into her shoulder, there is not an inch between them. He can hear the apology in her tone, she's still shaking in his arms, he tightens his hold. 

 _"Shhhh, Molly, baby, you're okay. You're okay, calm down, I'm right here,"_  he can feel her panting against his neck. 

 _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"_ she mumbles, overwhelmed by the unexpected burst of emotions, the sudden, urgent need to feel his body against hers. But he senses her apology is not for that but for the days they were apart, for the distance the distance has caused between them, for the worry he'd gone through when she was taken and, most of all, for forgetting him. 

 _"Baby,"_  he whispers,  _"Baby,"_  he can't say any more, he just holds her, holds on to her, needing her as much as she's needing him, realizing he's waited for this contact since the moment he'd found her, perhaps since the moment he was told she was taken. He slowly calms down again, his senses taking control of his emotions.  _"You don't need to apologize for any of it, Molly."_  his voice is firm in her ear. _"Anything that has kept you alive and brought you back to me, is fine by me._ " He wishes he could relieve her of her guilt, this is one cross she does not need to bear.  _"You hear me, Molly? Look at me,"_  he waits for her to raise her head and meet his eyes, eager to press reassurance into her, but she doesn't.  _"Molly, please look at me,"  
_ She slowly lifts the weight of her head, pressing it lightly against his neck and then against his cheek, collecting herself, before pulling back and looking into his eyes. He could drown in that green, it sends surges of fire through his body, almost forgetting what he was saying he fights to keep his focus, his voice now soft and confident.   
 _"I'm not mad, I'm not holding anything against you, you did what you had to do to survive. I've waited six months to hold you in my arms again, the fact that I can do that erases everything else. We will get through all of this, at your pace, but you have to let go of the guilt. Okay? And no more apologizing. Deal?"_

She looks at him for a moment, reading something in his eyes before nodding firmly. _"Deal."_     
It's still very small and unsure, but he can see something clearing in her eyes.

 _"One more thing Dawes, and then I'll have to put you down because my leg is killing me,"_   She looks at him, her hands gripping at his sleeves as she prepares to be set down to the ground. His face breaks into a smile.  _"You are unbelievably, breathtakingly beautiful and I love what've you've done with your hair. Though I do miss the curls, you look fantastic."_

He can see the blush rising in her cheeks as her fingers search for the missing curls on her head, a shy smile forming on her lips. He then sets her down, trying to avoid her body sliding against his, weary of the physical effect it might have on him. He proceeds to fix his uniform and walks about the room to release some pressure from his leg, watching her as she collects herself and fixes her own uniform.  _"You ready?"_

 _"No,"_ she answers anxiously, but he sees her gathering determination. 

 _"Well, it's not the Taliban,"_  he wonders if it's too soon for humor _, "just some people that have missed you and the press."_

 _"I don't know, Boss_ ," she counters his humor _, "I think I might prefer the Taliban. At least with them, I didn't give a toss about how I look."_  She giggles at him, trying to shake off her worry _.  
_

_"You just called me Boss,"_ he smiles at her.

 _"Sorry,"_  she suddenly looks self-conscious,  _"force of habit I guess."_

 _"No need to apologize, Dawsey,"_ he raises his eyebrow as if reminding her of the deal they had just made _, "just, don't get too used to it, it took us ages to break the habit last time."_ he winks at her, _"Now off we go, come on_."  He holds the door open for her and waits for her to go through it, _"Breathtakingly beautiful,"_ he whispers as she passes him, the aimed-for smile spreading on her lips.

..

The official part of the ceremony passes rather quickly; the P.M. having only 40 minutes to be there, he makes a public statement to the press, congratulating her and the recovery team, pinning a medal to her chest and then to theirs. She tries to block most of it out, only answering shortly and politely to his questions when she must and smiling for the rest of it. They then let the journalists flash at them for some pictures, first with the P.M. and then with the recovery team. She notices Charles keeping to her side as much as possible, though they can't talk for most of it, or even look directly at each other, she feels his intent to protect her, drawing strength from his proximity. 

It's then they ask Ben to join the pictures. She hasn't even had the chance to see him yet, let alone talk to him. They stand awkwardly next to each other, smiling lightly at the cameras. In the short moments between flashes, she can see the regret and guilt in his eyes, how uncomfortable he is in the situation. But before she can react, they decide they want everyone in a picture, bringing together the rescue team and Ben and her family around her. 

It's a few more flashes before the lieutenant responsible for the ceremony declares the time is up and orders the journalists to leave the premises, leaving Molly on the tarmac among soldiers and her family. She hurries to find Ben again, wanting to clear the air. Though she had dreaded meeting him, upon seeing him and the guilt that's been eating him, she feels an urgency to set things straight and relieve him.

 _"Ben,"_  she stands before him suddenly unsure what to say.

 _"Dawes,"_  he says, his voice filled with torture and relief. She understands it's up to her to set the tone between them _._

_"How you feeling, mate? How's your rehabilitation going?"_

_"Good,"_  he nods, trying to read her,  _"being fitted for a prosthesis next week. Technology's cutting edge, as her majesty is paying,"_  he laughs lightly but then his face falls. _"Dawes, I just want to say, how truly sorry I am. I,"_  his eyes look into hers before falling to the floor. 

She reaches for his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, " _What you sorry for, Ben? You weren't the one shooting at us, were you? The way I see it, you've left more than I did in Afghan, maybe I should apologize to you; if I'd done my job better,"_

 _"_ _No Molly, no."_  he stops her midsentence. 

_"So how 'bout we just leave it, mate, let it go, yeah? All is good with us, we're both home now."_

She extends her hand to shake his and he takes it silently, fighting to calm his emotions. Then Charles appears at her side.

 _"Dawes, there are a few people who'd like to say hi, if you're up for it."_  She nods as she looked beyond him to see a group of soldiers waiting and smiling at her, then says goodbye to Ben. 

 _"You truly are fucking awesome, you know that?!"_  Charles says as they make their way. 

_"How much of that did you hear?"_

_"Enough to know he'll sleep better at night. And to hope you'll take your own advice,"_ he cocks a questioning look at her. 

_"It's your advice actually, and I'll try. But Ben really didn't have anything to be sorry about, it wasn't his fault. Anyway, who are these guys?"_

_"These, Dawes, are the cockwombles you did your first tour with,"_  his voice is now loud enough for the group to hear, a smirk spreading on his face as they near them _, "these are 2 section. I've tried to make them pack it in, but I'm not sure they're able to, so I apologize in advance, on their behalf, if they become completely unbearable."_

 _"Dawesy!!!"_  

They all grin at her, taking turns to come up and hug her. Though she doesn't recognize most of them, she lets them express their excitement, trying to recover the relationship she had with each of them. 

 _"Fingers?!"_  she retorts as he pulls back, having whispered his name in her ear _, "do I even want to know why you're called that?"_ he just grins at her mischievously,  _"Sorry Molls, you've missed your chance, choosing the Boss after tour..."_  

" _Alright, Darling?"_  a ginger head soldier gives her a peck on the cheek.

 _"You must be Mansfield if the hair's any indication,"_  

He grins at her,  _"See boys, she remembers me! My Mum always said I make an impression!"_  

They all grunt and laugh, Molly quickly finding Charle's eyes as he bites his lips smirking. 

 _"Jackie!"_  Molly suddenly cries, recognizing her friend, a slight look of confusion flittering across everyone's faces as she glides to hug the woman in front of her.  _"I don't think you were part of 2 section on that tour!"_

 _"Not during, but since,"_  Brains answers as he slides an arm across Jackie's shoulders, grinning with delight, Molly quickly making the connection.

 They then stand there for a while, exchanging light banter, Molly mainly listening and smiling along, enjoying the ease and familiarity with which they communicate with one another. Noticing Molly's state as the exhaustion of the flight and the emotional toll of the day begin to set in, Charles declares they must soon be on their way, Molly still having to make the drive home. Though they're not in his command anymore, they still respond to him with loyalty and respect, they soon say their goodbyes, hugging Molly again, whispering how good it is to see her and have her back home.

As she walks with Charles back to the room where her family is waiting, she asks _, "Where's Smurf? Is he on tour? Couldn't he make it?"_

Charles stops, stunned. Molly stops next to him, seeing the color drain from his face.  _"Shit, Molly, I didn't think, "_  he looks at her as she tries to read his reaction. He then takes hold of her arms, holding her stable as he prepares to tell her.  _"Smurf died, Molly. He suffered a brain hemorrhage and passed away. You were with him when it happened. He came to visit you in London and collapsed on the grass at West-Ham stadium. I'm sorry."_     
He looks at her as she takes it all in, her features darkening as she slowly nods her head.  _"Are you okay?"_  he asks, trying to elicit a response from her, but she just nods solemnly and turns to continue walking.

...

_"So, uh, what happens now?"_

_"it's actually up to you. Your mum and I thought you might be more comfortable going home with them, to London, but it's your decision."_

_"And where are you going to be?"_

_"I, uh, if it's okay with you, I thought I'd stay in London for a few days, see that you settle in, be there if you need me.I booked a room not too far from your parent's place. But it doesn't mean, it's only for, I'm not expecting... Shit, it's just for me to be close if you want me there, nothing more, no pressure."_  

She can see the uncertainty in his eyes, can feel him swaying between his will to be close and care for her and his fear of overbearing and intruding.  _"I'd like that,"_  she says quietly, " _I'll ring you tomorrow then, yeah?"_ she says waving her phone at him, smiling. 

There is something so of-the-ordinary about it, everyday casual, that the can't help but smile; enjoying the normalcy of her question. _"Anytime, Molly, whenever you bloody feel like it."_   Then he takes her in his arms, hugging her lightly, _"Welcome home, Molls."_     


	24. Roaming

_"Dawes?"_

_"Hi,"_

_"It's not tomorrow yet,"_

_"I know, I just... wanted to check."_

_"Check what?"_

_"Don't know really, just check. Needed to hear your voice maybe. You okay? Not too lonely in that hotel room?"_

_"I'm okay. You?"_

_"Yeah. I'm home, you know?"_

_"Is it weird?"_

_"A bit. I'm actually hiding in the toilet, it's the only place you can find privacy in this madhouse. It's quite a change from Bastion."_

_"But you wouldn't change it for the world, right?"_

_"Right."_

_"You going to bed soon?"_

_"Yeah, I'm knackered. Time difference and that, you?"_

_"Yes. Driving all your siblings and that,"_

_"Yeah, sorry 'bout that and thank you. It was really good to have them there."_

_"Don't mention it. I was happy to help. It was a good distraction as well."_

_"Distraction from what?"_

_"From, uh,"_  he hesitates shortly,  _"from you, from the excitement of seeing you again, from how beautiful you are."_ There is silence on the line and he can imagine her blushing.  _"You there Dawes?'_

 _"Yeah, I'm here."_  she says quietly,  _"I uh, I've missed you too."_

 _"Yeah?"_  he smiles, a rush of happiness washing over him.

_"Yeah. So, I wanted to ask,"_

_"Ah, I knew it wasn't just a check-up call!"_

_"No, don't be mean, I wanted to check with you,"_  she giggles,  _"I took your advice in Bastion, I walk in the mornings and I don't wanna break the habit. So, I wanted to ask, check, whatever, if you'd like to join me tomorrow?"_

_"For a morning walk?"_

_"Yes,"_  She can sense he's stretching it more than he has to,  _"you taking the piss?"_

_"No, Molls, I'd love to join you for a morning walk. Wait, is it a walk or a stroll?"_

_"You are taking the piss!"_

_"No, I just need to know what to prepare for. No, I'm sorry, I am taking the piss, but just a little. A little piss."_  He chuckles at his own joke,  _"It's been so long, I wanted to check how it feels."_

_"And? How does it feel?"_

_"It feels like home."_

_"Oi?! Taking the piss out'f me feels like home, you posh bugger?"_

He has to laugh at that,  _"Talking to you like this Molly, light and free and happy, feels like home. I'm so happy you're home, Molls."_

_"Me too. So I'll see you tomorrow?"_

_"Tomorrow. I can't wait."_

_"Well don't get too excited, it's just a morning walk in east London. Wouldn't go to the press with it."_

_"Anything with you and I can't wait."_

 

_"Were you always like this?"_

_"Like what?"_

_"Flirtatious. Every sentence with you is a bloody flirt."_

_"Is that a bad thing? Should I stop?"_

_"No, yes, no I mean, I don't know. It's flattering of course, but it's confusing me too."_

_"Why?"_

_"Can we talk about this tomorrow? I don't wanna have this conversation on the phone hiding in the bog."_

_"Yes, we can. But two things,"_

_"What?"_

_"One, we've had endless conversations on the phone with you hiding, usually on top of the bog. In Afgan, when you were on tour and I was home and your section were driving you up the walls, or up the bog to be exact._ _And two, I don't mean to confuse you but I mean every word I say. You've read my letters, you know how I feel and what I hope for. And I'm not taking anything for granted anymore. I'm not missing any more opportunities with you, Molly._ _I'll tone it down if it makes you uncomfortable but I meant what I said, I'm happy your home, happier than I've been in a long time and I'm excited to see you tomorrow, spend time with you and you were, are, beautiful."_

  _"Charles,"_

_"I'm done, I'm done, I'll stop now."_

_"Thank you."_

_"Good night Molly."_

_"Good night Charles."_

...

When she opens the door the next morning, preparing to go call at his hotel, he's already standing there, leaning against the rail, waiting. A takeaway cup clasped in each hand. 

 _"What, how did, how long have, you're just a shade stalkish, aren't you mate?"_  she finally succeeds to blurt out of her confusion, smiling cheekily. 

 _"I'm not sure that's English Dawes, but I was invited. But if you want me to go, I'll take this fine cup of English brew and get on my way,"_  he smirks at her.

 _"Not so fast,"_  She says as she leans in to take a whiff of the steaming beverage,  _"maybe I'll keep you after all."_  she teases calmly, accepting the drink from him as they turn to head out, catching his grin,  _"Oh, you know what I mean."_

_._

They walk in silence for a while, enjoying each other's company and the light tension of potential flowing between them. He follows Molly's lead both in pace and direction, sneaking glances at her as she takes in her surroundings, looking at things that have changed as well as those that stayed the same.  _"There's something comforting in it, you know?"_  she says suddenly, voicing a tail of a thought going through her head. 

_"What's that Dawes?"_

_"That, things don't necessarily change. The first time I came back, was it from training or a tour? I'm not sure anymore but I came back to find the pub around our corner had closed down._ _We go away and the one certainty we have is home and then we come back and things change and it doesn't seem certain anymore, you know, it's kind of unnerving."_ She draws back into her thoughts and he's unsure if she's perhaps referring to more than just the urban changes occurring in London. 

 _"_ _Do you feel it happened this time as well?"_ he asks carefully and she takes time to think about her answer. 

 _"No, somehow everything with my lot is the same, my mum has the same worries, the kids are bigger, obviously, but that feels right. And then there are the things I just don't know, can't remember... but I think I changed this time,"_ she quiets down for a moment. _"Maybe that's obvious too,"_ she mutters to herself.

 _"_ _I, uh, I'm not sure I should say this,"_ he begins, wanting to give her something, strength, comfort, confidence _, "I know you've been through a lot and that there are still holes and you're not sure but, I look at you and for me you're the same._ _No, not the same, improved, if that's possible. You're you but you've been through more and even if you don't see it yet, you'll come through the other side stronger._ _Anyway, what I meant to say, I still see you – Molly – that's not lost."_

She looks at him for a moment and he shrugs his shoulders in answer. It's a childish gesture and it makes him seem young and innocent, earnest and exposed. 

_"Thank you for saying that, really, I just don't feel it yet."_

_"Yet. Yet is good, Molly."_

_"Yeah,"_ she reflects quietly, reminded of similar words she's said before. 

 

_"I uh, need to tell you something, no, I want to tell you something, I think it's only fair you know, that we talk about it."_

_"Oh, that does sound dangerous, Molly,"_ he tries to lighten the mood, the dread her words bring to him, the notion this isn't going to be easy. 

 _"Yeah well,"_ she says her lips a crooked smile, _"I, uh, talked to Stravinsky about you, about us actually, I,"_ she pauses to reorganize her thoughts, all the different possibilities fleeting in her head as she feels him listening intently.  _"It was after reading your letters, after our phone call, I think you know I was feeling guilty about it all and – "_

_"Molly,"_

_"No, let me say this, please. I remember what you said yesterday and I'm trying, the thing is, I, I remember what I felt back then, Charles, I remember feeling it, I do, I'm just not sure I feel it now. I don't know what I feel and I'm scared to confuse what's happening now with what I know I felt before. Does that makes sense?"_ she pauses for a moment, going over it in her head but he doesn't really respond.   
 _"_ _You know how you wrote, you'd be happy with the opportunity to make me fall in love with you again?"_ she looks at him timidly and he nods slightly,  _"I think that's just the thing. I need to choose it, now, again, you know? And so do you. It can't be you waiting for me to fill the gaps, to come back to be who I was._ _In that sense, I've changed. If we do this, it has to be together, equally, I mean._ " She suddenly hears her words and thinks she sounds so different to herself, foreign in a way, though she is expressing what she's been thinking, feeling.  _"We both have to get to know who we are now. After what happened, with what happened, 'cause, in a way, it happened to both of us. So, yeah, like you said, maybe we do have to fall in love with each other all over again."_

 It takes him a while to answer, sorting out his own feelings while Stravinsky's words come back to his mind.  _"You've really had time to think about all this, haven't you?"_   She nods lightly at his question, waiting for him to elaborate.  _"Have you really spoken to Stravinsky about all of this?"_

_"No, not all of it. Mainly about the guilt. And how lucky we are to have another chance at this. The rest is me thinking, as dangerous as that is... it's what I feel I need."_

_"Okay, then that's what we'll do I guess,"_

_"Charles, you have to tell me what you're thinking, how this affects you. You can't be okay with everything, nobody's that, what's the word?"_

_"Lenient?"_

_"Yeah maybe. Anyway, you think you can tell me how you really feel, what you really think? What you want?"_

 

As they absentmindedly round the corner, deep in their conversation, they arrive at the Iranian market, busy with men and women arranging their shops and stalls for the day, greeting each other in friendly shouts in Arabic, while somewhere in the street the sound of Ud music can be heard playing softly. Molly freezes in place, her hand gripping anxiously at Charles' arm. He turns to look at her, seeing her face pale and her eyes shot with alarm as she follows the movements and noises. He steps closer into her space, offering protection and stability. 

 _"Dawes, you okay?"_ she shakesher head lightly, her eyes peeled at the men around her,  _"Come on, we don't have to go through here. We can go arou-"_  

 _"No. no."_  she shakes her head again, more vigorously this time, as though making herself determined.  _"We're not going around. This is my home. I grew up here, with these people. They have nothing to do with happened._ _Just, give me a moment and stay close, please_."  She looks at him intently, gathering strength from him.

 _"There is no danger for you here, this is London. And I'm right here,"_ he says as he holds her by both arms. She nods slowly, turning to look at her surroundings again, walking slowly, all the while clutching tightly to Charles's arm.

 _"My Nan stole a watch from this stall once. She thought I didn't see but I did. She gave it to me for my 11th birthday."_ She tries to talk through her anxiety, overcompensating with words, _"And I used to work at the nail shop just down that street, up until I joined up," she points as she walks him through the market, "and that stall belongs to my ex-boyfriend's uncle. He wasn't my finest choice. Was actually what brought me to the army... do you know all this? Did we ever talk about this?"_

 _"Molly?"_ a voice interrupts before Charles can answer, she flinches and turns quickly to face its source.

_"Artan, you devil, I was just talking about you."_

_"That I am. It's good to see you."_

_"What are you doing here?"_

_"I own the store now, my uncle... had some trouble, passed it on to me. See? Not the bellend you thought I'd be."_ They stare at each other for a moment, searching each other's faces for the changes that have occurred over the years.  _"And who's this?"_

 _"Oh, sorry, this is Charles, my-"_  she's at a loss for words,  _"Charles. Charles, this is Artan."_

 _"It's nice to meet you,"_  correct as always, Charles offers him a hand to shake, Artan taking it cautiously. 

 _"You take good care of this one, yeah? She's one in a million. I was an idiot to let her go."_   Though he's talking to Charles, his eyes are fixed on Molly. 

 Surprised and uncomfortable Charles nods,  _"I know, I intend to."_  

Molly remaining self-protective, her eyes growing darker.  _"That's not exactly how I remember it."_  

Artan's gaze falling to the ground he says,  _"I uh... heard what happened, saw you on the news. That must've been shit, Molly."_

_"Well, it wasn't all sunshine and daisies, was it? But it's over now, so..." though her features stay calm and closed, Charles can feel her fingers tightening against his arm. He leans just a tad closer to her, you would hardly notice it but she feels his support as Artan continues._

_"Yeah, well, I'm sorry, Molly, you know... for..."_

_"Yeah, thanks."_ She says uncomfortably, _"listen, we really gotta go, it was nice seeing you."_

_"Yeah, you too Molly."_

With that he goes back to caring for boxes piled inside the store, looking back at them as they walk away, Molly gradually quickening the pace. A few feet away, Molly, now desperate to exit the market, breaks into a jog, whizzing through the stalls. Her hand having left Charles' arm, and though her pace is not great, he has a hard time following her, due to the people filling the market. Coming out of the narrow alleys into the open street, Molly keeps running up along it, not noticing the changing light as she runs into the street. 

 _"Dawes! Stop!"_  Charles barks it like an order, reaching her just in time to grab her away from the busy road, pulling her to a halt. She seems to awaken from a trance she was fixed in, panting for air as her lungs fight to overcome the exertion suddenly demanded from them. Charles sees her confusion and pulls her into his arms,  _"You're okay,"_  he breathes against her temple,  _"breathe, Molly."_

 _"They've made me afraid,"_ shemurmurs into his chest,  _"they've made me afraid. They've won."_

 _"No, they haven't. They haven't won. Molly, look at me,"_  he takes her head in both his hands and tips it till her eyes meet his.  _"You're home Molly, you're fighting this, you're fighting for who you are, they didn't take that away. They haven't won because they couldn't take away what makes you you. And you'll find it all again, it'll just take time."  
_

_"_ _How do you know?"_

_"Because I know you. You're relentless when you want something, nothing can stop you, you don't give up, you don't take the easy way out. Be it the small things like refusing to let me order for you in a restaurant or life-threatening things like insisting to crawl through a minefield and climb up a winch under a sniper's threat to save a member of your section._ _Even what you said today about us choosing each other again - not falling back blindly to what's comfortable about it._ _You have this drive, and if you decide to get over this, you will. I have no doubt in my mind."_

_"I do."_

_"Well, it's a good thing I'm here then, isn't it?"_

_"Yeah."_ She sighs,  _"I don't think I could'a done this without you,"_

_"Oh, I'm sure you could but luckily for both of us, you don't have to. And that's my answer to your question from before - I want you. With the changes and the challenges and the finding out and falling in love again._ _I didn't think it was possible to love you any more than I already did Molly, but I do, every day I fall in love with you again and deeper, and I'm not going to apologize for it. That was our deal, right?  
_ _I can't erase what I already feel to start over but I'm willing to be open to you, to whatever you bring and feel you need. So, I'm here, for as long as you want me here."_

_"I want you."_ He raises an eyebrow at her.  _"To be here, I mean."_ She mutters uncomfortably and he smiles at her uneasiness.

 _"How about some tea on the way home_?" he offers, setting the mood back to casual, as she nods they turn to walk side by side again, _"We can discuss how you tricked me."_

_"You what?"_

_"_ _Yes, I asked you specifically yesterday, if this was a walk or a stroll and you go and break into a jog. I feel like I've been duped. l might gonna need to complain."_ He smirks.

 _"Oh piss off."_ She says, bumping her shoulder against him.


	25. Roadtrip

Walking along the park in one of their now habitual morning walks, Molly tries to voice the subject that has been gnawing at her for a few days.   
 _"So, there's something I need to do and I was wondering, maybe, you'd like to join me..."_ Though she's terrified of his reaction, needing his support in this, she tries to keep her voice light and level _, "how'd you feel about a road trip?"_

 _"A road trip?"_  he's intrigued,  _"where to?"_  

She exhales before answering and he can feel her anxiety.  _"Newport?"_  she says, her eyes finding his, a crease of fear forming on her forehead. 

He's caught by surprise, not ready for that answer, though, when he stops and thinks about it, it makes perfect sense that she'd want to go.  _"You sure you're ready for that?_ " he asks, not revealing his feelings nor his answer. 

 _"No,"_  she says carefully,  _"but I..."_  she searches for the words,  _"I remember him, being my friend and I know what you told me happened, but I can't connect the two. And I thought maybe going there, seeing his mum, will help with some of it. I feel like I should go, pay my respects, you know?"_

_"I don't think that's necessary, Molly, but if you feel you need to then sure."_

_"I just,"_  he can see her fighting the guilt as she bites her lips,  _"I forgot her son dying. How am I suppose to look her in the eye?"_

 _"Well, you don't actually have to go..."_ he sees that's not the answer she was looking for,  _"you didn't forget her son. You remember him as the bellend he was when he was alive. I'm sure she won't hold it against you."_

 _"Will you come with me?"_   He can feel how difficult it is for her to ask but he still hesitates, painful memories and half settled guilt rising in him shortly, and then she adds,  _"A day away, just you and me and the road, the sea, Welsh wankers all around. How's that sound?"_

 _"Like a plan,"_  he answers quickly, swept away with the picture she's painting. 

 _"Yeah?"_  she says, grinning with excitement. 

 _"Hmm,"_  he nods slightly, calculating things,  _"When?"_

 _"Uh, tomorrow?"_  she suggests, unsure, adding as he thinks it over,  _"I, uh_ ," 

"What now?" he asks laughingly, watching her lose her short regained confidence. 

 _"_ _I thought maybe, after, we could umm... go back... to... umm..."_  he has a feeling he knows exactly what she's suggesting but he doesn't dare say it or even hope for it, his skin begins to tingle with hopeful excitement, he has to take control of himself. 

_"Come on, Dawes, spit it out."_

_"I thought maybe, instead of coming back here, to London, we could go home, to your home I mean, to see – "_

_"Our home,"_  he corrects automatically, his fingers finding the fabric of her jacket, he can see her cheeks flush red.

 _"Yeah,"_  she echoes lightly, a hint of worry whisking across her face before she resolves,  _"So, what do you think?"_

 _"Let's see,"_ he contemplates playfully, _"What do I think about taking you home? I don't Dawes,"_ his voice is serious but his eyes glisten at her, confusing her, he stretches the notion as much as he can, a wave of relief and happiness rushing through him.  _"I think it's the best bloody idea you've had in a long time, Molly, maybe ever."_ he finally says, quietly, to her alone, holding back while she can feel the emotion and excitement and hope radiating off him in warm waves, it's so intense, he's almost shaking.

...

_"Hello?"_

_"Candy? Hi, it's Molly Dawes,"_

_"Molly,"_  the woman on the line exhales loudly, " _oh my god, honey, it's so good to hear from you, how are you?"_

 _"Yeah, I'm okay thanks, I uh-"_  confused by the overwhelming relief she can hear in Candy's voice, Molly loses her line of thought.

_"I heard on the news what happened, I'm so sorry, it must've been awful. I didn't know how to contact you, what to say, I'm so happy you called."_

_"Yeah,"_ surprised by Candy's reaction, Molly almost regrets calling. It's not that Molly forgot but her head was so focused on the past, the history the two of them share around Smurf, she didn't realize Candy, like every other person, would be thinking about Molly's latest experience in Afghan.  _"Anyway, I'll be in your area tomorrow, wanted to ask if I could come visit you, pop in for a short cuppa?"_

 _"I'd love that Molly, thank you for thinking of me. Would you like us to go to the graveyard together?"_  

Molly hadn't even thought of that, overwhelmed by the sudden materiality of Smurf's death.  _"I, uh, think I want to go alone if that's okay with you..."_

_"Sure honey, then I'll see you after,"_

_"I, um, I'm coming with Charles, Captain Charles James?"_   Molly's not sure what the relations between the two are but thinks it better not to surprise Candy with his presence. 

 _"Okay,"_  she thinks she can sense a change in Candy's voice but the woman goes on immediately,  _"I'll be home, no worries. I'll see you both tomorrow then, yeah?"_

_"Yeah, see you then Candy, thanks"_

_"Ta Molly, bye."_

...

Leaving early, both excited and nervous inwardly, they ride quietly in the car, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere they share between them. Molly is nursing a takeaway brew while his coffee sits in the cup holder between them. 

 _"You nervous?"_  he asks at some point.

" _Bricking it,"_  she answers in earnest.  _"I called Candy yesterday to let her know we're coming and it was so awkward, I'm not sure this is a good idea anymore."_

 _"Say the word and I'll turn us around,"_  he says, willingly choosing flight over fight. 

" _You nervous too?"_ she senses his discomfort. 

 _"Well, Candy and I, we don't have the best record, do we? Before she met me she had twin sons and now..."_ he voices the thought stuck in his mind, unable to shake it, no matter how many times he tells himself it's illogical to look at it that way. 

_"Shit Charles. I didn't know, I shouldn't've asked you to come. I'm sorry."_

_"No Molly, it's fine. It's not your fault, I chose to come. It's just... you know... heavy."_

_"Yeah. You wanna talk about it?"_

_"I don't know, what do you remember? What do you want to know?"_

_"You think you can tell about his brother? What happened?"_  

A streak of angst flashes through his eyes as he turns to look at her quickly, contemplating her question before his eyes return to the road. He's never really talked about it other than with the counsellor the army had assigned him after that tour. She can feel his body stiffen, his concentration densify but, to her surprise, he starts talking, beginning at the very beginning, having met Geriant while training for that tour. As he describes him, Molly thinks of Smurf, silently comparing the two very different twins, feeling she's receiving a new perspective on her lost friend. Charles continues to drive and talk, they now drive along the sea, the blue and grey turbulence, echoing Charles' feeling and thoughts. The drive eventually comes to an end almost in accordance with his story as they park at the edge of a trail leading down to some greenery before the water. She can feel him gathering himself, overcoming his openness, the dive back into his memories and feelings. 

They sit quietly for a moment, still in the car, Molly takes his hand to her lips.  _"Thank you for telling me,"_  she whispers, cherishing not only that he shared and exposed himself but that they were seemingly going forward, without only focusing on her.  _"It wasn't your fault,"_  She continues softly, murmuring against his hand _, "you did above and beyond to bring him back and now at least she has a place she can go to, a grave. And Smurf, Smurf was just fucking bad luck and bad timing. We couldn't've changed it no matter what we'd've done. You know that, right_?" He's not sure she's really expecting an answer and when he doesn't react she goes on talking, though it's so low, it's as if it's to herself. _"You're an incredible man."_

He's surprised by her words and smiles a small smile, squeezing her hand.  _"Enough of this, let's get some fresh air,"_  he says before climbing out of the car.

.

Having sat quietly for a while on the grassy dyke, looking at the sea, each lost in their own thoughts, Molly carefully breaks the silence;  _"Charles?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Can I kiss you?"_

_"I don't know Molly, can you?"_

_"You cheeky posh bugger; May I kiss you?"_ she knows by his response he won't object but she needed to make sure, to bring it up, to give him a way out, just in case. In all the time they'd spent together in London this past week, she noticed he was careful to keep it non-physical and at a safe distance, she's just not completely sure why. **  
**

_"I thought that was the man's job to ask that,"_ he says lightly.

 _"Pfff,"_ she scrunches her nose dismissively _, "I don't do gender whatever anymore, life's too short, I just do what I want."_

 _"Oh yeah?"_ he smirks at her, raising his eyebrows. 

 _"Well, within reason and consent obviously,"_ she giggles. 

 _"Molly,"_ he says quietly and she can feel the tension shifting with his deep tone, he leans in, his lips fluttering on hertempleand then her cheek, he whispers, " _I consent. Always."_

A smile spreads across her lips.He stays close, waiting for her to make her move, follow up on her initiative. Enjoying the anticipation, she turns her head slowly, looking at his face and into his eyes, trying to read what's there. She fights the urge to caress his cheek, keeping her hands on her folded knees, something tells her their contact now must depend on their lips alone. She dips her head and closes her eyes, drifting towards him until their lips touch gently. She can feel his eyelashes flutter on her cheek as he closes his eyes, committing to their bond. It's so soft, almost like it's their first kiss, weary and curious, it takes time to unfold as they slowly gain the courage to express what they feel.  
Slowly, their hands find each other, hers caressing his cheek and neck, his sneaking behind her to pull her closer. As they get bolder and more acquainted, their kiss deepening as their tongues search and explore, she finds her way into his lap. But feeling a slight twitch in his groin she suddenly pulls back, a flash of panic in her eyes.  
 _"Wait, wait,"_  she tries to catch her breath, climbing off him,  _"wait,"_ she says again, more to herself, trying to make sense of her feelings. 

He catches her hands as she pulls them away, keeping her close. _"Dawes,"_  She can hear the emotion in his ragged voice, though he used her last name, she can sense the intimacy underlying his overwhelmment. 

 _"I uh,"_  she tries to explain, confused,  _"I don't think I'm ready, I don't know what it means,"_

 _"Okay,"_  he nods at her, his eyes not leaving her _, "there's no rush, we don't have to figure it all today. It was beautiful for what it was. I, for one, thoroughly enjoyed it,"_ he grins at her, trying to lighten the mood.He can see her blush and then her eyes grow wideas she remembers something.

 _"I came here with Smurf during our R &R"_ she voices reflectively, not noticing Charles' wince,  _"I think I talked about you the entire time. Everything I asked, everything Smurf and I talked about, was mostly about getting more information about you, without him noticing, mind you. I had the biggest crush on you by then."_

_"I didn't help, did I? I'd never been so unprofessional in my life, until that day, but the thought of you leaving for your R &R, and with him... I saw you pack and suddenly I felt like..." _

She's not used to seeing him at a loss for words, _"Like what?"_ in a way she enjoys his discomfort, finds it flattering to hear him tell of the effect she had on him so early on. 

 _"I can't explain it, I just couldn't let you go, not without you knowing something of what you do to me. You still do that to me,"_ he says it so simply, like an afterthought, it's heartwarming. 

 _"My charm and magnetism, hey?"_  she answers bashfully, half sincere, half joking.

 _"Something like that, Dawes, something like that._ _"_ He smiles at her. _"You ready to go?"_

_._

An hour later, they're standing in the graveyard, two almost identical graves in front of them, the two differences being a first name and the date of death - two years apart. They both stand there in silence, each unsure of their own feelings as well as the other's. It's overwhelming. Molly silently slips a hand into his palm, their fingers entwined as they draw strength from the connection, trying to overcome the emotional precariousness _._

 _"You okay?"_  he asks quietly.

 _"Yeah,"_  she answers just as quiet, _"it just seems so unfair."_

The impossibility of fate hangs around them. He takes her hand to his chest,  _"I know it's perhaps inappropriate here, Molly, but I'm so happy you're back. Standing here, it makes me realize again how fucking lucky we are."_  

She knows exactly what he means. She moves to stand before him, her back against him, circling his arms around her, letting herself get acquainted with being held and leaning against him. Though it's happened before, their time away today, the distance from everything, the feeling of spring in the air, things being of choice rather than the constraint of helplessness, make things feel new and elemental, like discovering building blocks they need to build a solid foundation as partners _._

 _"It seems so wrong,"_  she says after a while. 

_"What does?"_

_"That the lively, funny wanker who couldn't sit still for two seconds is summed up in this slab of stone. It's like the opposite of everything he was... "_  

He can feel her discomfort growing.  _"You want to go?"_

 _"Can we? It just feels... wrong. I don't need this to remember him, don't wanna remember him like this."_  Her voice now sour, she turns to him.  _"But I can wait in the car if you wanna stay if you need more time."_

_"No, it's fine. Let's go."_

As they walk down the path back towards the car, he tugs lightly on her hand, bringing her to a halt.  _"Hey, Molls, you sure you're ready to meet Candy now?"_

She can feel his hesitance, unsure if he's asking for her sake or his own. She nods lightly, raising a hand to protect her eyes from the sun as she looks at him.   
 _"I can meet her alone if you want. You can go have coffee by the sea, if you prefer, pick me up in an hour or so."_  

 _"No,"_  he says solemnly,  _"I'll come with."_

_"You sure? You really don't have to Charles,"_

_"I think maybe I do,"_  he looks into her eyes and she can see his private torture surface.

 _"Okay. We won't stay long. One cuppa and we're out, yeah? And if it gets too much, just fake a phone call and I'll follow you out. Deal?"_  

He can't help but smile at her, leaning closer to kiss her lightly and innocently and full of gratitude for who she is and how she knows him,  _"Deal."_

...

 _"Molly dear, come in come in. Charles,"_  as Molly steps inside she can hear the change of tone as Candy greets the two of them.  _"Oh, I'm so glad to see you,"_  Candy says as she hugs Molly.  _"Come right through here, we'll sit in the front room as the sun is so nice. What can I get you two to drink?"_

 _"Tea will do me, thanks"_  Molly pipes. 

 _"Me too,"_  Charles echoes after her. 

She doesn't think she's ever seen him so uncomfortable and guilty-looking but then, maybe she has and just can't remember. When Candy leaves the room to prepare the drinks, Molly takes Charles' hand.  _"You okay?"_  she whispers. He looks at her, a ghost of a smile fluttering on his lips.  _"50 minutes to go"_  she mouths almost silently, smiling, planting a kiss on his hand. When Candy comes in, Molly doesn't break contact, hoping she can will Candy to back off of Charles. 

 _"So how have you been, dear?"_  Candy asks as she serves the tea and takes her place, freezing in her seat as she realizes what she'd asked.  _"I'm so sorry, Molly, that was so stupid of me, I don't – "_

 _"No, it's fine, Candy, don't worry. Yeah, it's been... difficult,"_  Molly smiles lightly, knowing they all know that's an understatement, _"but I'm back now, finding my way again. It's been slow but we're getting there..."_  she sneaks a smile a Charles. 

 _"I suspect it's hard being back, the difference from being on tour. I remember with both the boys, it took them weeks to find their legs again,_ " a quiet moment flatters through the room as they all think of the two fallen brothers. 

 _"Yeah, I uh, also, don't remember everything,"_  Molly says carefully, unsure how the news of her state will affect Candy,  _"so it's been-"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I have Retrograde Amnesia ever since I was... taken,"_  she sees the look of bafflement on Candy's face,  _"which means there are some things from before that I can't remember."_   Charles has never heard her talk about it, there is no fear in her voice, no drama, just simple facts and openness as she exposes her weakness to her friend. He sits there in awe, drinking her in, blessing his luck to have met her, found her, brought her back, have her to hold on to. He's woken from his thoughts by the mention of his name.  _"Charles has been with me since I was rescued, he's actually the one that brought me out, he's been helping me recall things, understand, figure things out."_

 _"Do you remember Dylan?"_  Candy's voice is on the verge of breaking as she fears the answer. 

 _"Yes."_  Molly answers quickly to relieve Candy from her pain _, "He's actually the only one from two-section that I remember clearly."_     
Charles can feel her fingers squeezing against his in a silent apology, sensing her will to make things right. Candy smiles a crooked smile, releasing a relieved breath from her lungs.  _"I just,"_  Molly goes on _, "I don't remember the day he died. Charles told me what happened but I can't remember it for myself, I'm sorry."_  She said it in one go, her voice small at the end of the sentence. Candy seemingly confused at her confession.

 _"Oh, darling, you don't need to apologize."_  She comes to sit at Molly's other side, wrapping her hands around her,  _"maybe it's for the better,"_ she says quietly as she hugs Molly,  _"you get to remember only the good parts."_    
After a moment of silence, Candy asks carefully,  _"So, when you say you don't remember two-section, what about Charles? did you remember him?"_

Molly's not sure why Candy asks this but she answers honestly, hoping Candy will see things have not been easy on Charles as well.  _"No. When I came out I had no recollection of who he was or what our relationship was. We've had to recover it all, start again almost from nothing."_  She can sense Charles stiffening at the attention, Candy's eyes hovering over him.

 _"I'm sorry to hear that,"_  she says quietly, almost formal,  _"it must have been hard on you too."_

Charles' lips curl up politely but the smile doesn't reach his eyes,  _"We're getting there,"_  he repeats Molly's former words.

 _"And how have you been, Candy?"_  Molly asks loudly, shifting the focus and the conversation from them to their hostess. 

 _"Yeah, Molly, okay. Nothing new here really. I have my routine, I do my shopping and cooking and take care of the house, the usual. Things are very quiet. Twice a week I go to classes at the arts centre in town. I've started painting... it helps with some of the thoughts, gives me something to look forward to, to think about other than my two beautiful boys up on that hill."_   She glances at Charles, can see him squirming ashamed and uncomfortable. 

 _"Candy,"_  Molly begins.

 _"No, Molly. I need to say something. Charles,"_  she pauses to breathe as he lifts his eyes at her. It's the first time she really looks at him, sees him. He seems so young suddenly, she can see him as a boy, she thinks of his mother, worried as her son flies back and forth to far away countries on missions she doesn't understand.  _"I think I've been a bit unfair to you,"_  she can see the surprise in his eyes,  _"I was so angry. Smurf was all I had left and suddenly he was gone for no reason. I needed someone to blame but its unfair to you. I know that now, I'm sorry. I know it must have been difficult for you as well._ _My boys loved you, they bloomed under your hand, Geriant died doing something he believed in. You brought Smurf home, his death is not on you."_

Through her own tears, she can see Charles fighting to keep his emotions in check. She extends a hand to him and he takes it.  _"Thank you,"_  he whispers, _"thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't protect them better. They were fine boys and damn good soldiers, both of them. I really am proud to have served with them. I'm sorry I haven't come sooner, I should have come sooner,"_ he feels everything he says is formal and distant, he wants to show her they really did mean something to him, their death having affected him.  _"I really do miss them."_  

She smiles at that and the tension disperses slowly, the subject of death and loss leaving the room and life and hope come to be discussed as the three of them sit for another cup, talking lightly like old friends. 


	26. Relocation

_"Hi, dear, I'm Catherine,"_  the elderly lady speaks softly as she greets them at the door _,_ her short silver hair glittering in the sunlight coming in through the open door, _"it's really good to see you again."_  

Molly can see the sincerity in her eyes and agrees when she silently asks if she can give Molly a hug. Catherine holds her for a moment, taking care not press too tightly as not to hurt Molly, but just firmly enough to make Molly feel a weird sensation of calmness and belonging, of arriving at a final destination.   
When she lets go, Molly silently takes her hand, examining its line, her voice low and quivering,  _"I think I... remember you."_ She can hear Charles' breath hitch behind her. She carefully lifts her eyes to Catherine, seeing them glimmer with gratitude, _"I remember... scones?"_ Molly's voice is almost ashamed at the association but both Catherin and Charles burst into light, happy laughter.

 _"That would make sense Dawes,"_ Charles says as he takes her jacket from her and hangs it by the door, _"she only makes the best scones in the world. You once asked if she'd be willing to move in so you could have them on a daily basis."_

Molly blushes at the thought but Catherine quickly puts her at ease, _"I'm actually just finishing a batch, if you make yourself comfortable in the lounge, I'll bring them in with some tea."_ With that, she turns to Charles _, "Sam is upstairs, I'm not sure he's heard you come in."_

 _"Thanks, mum,"_ he nods in apprehension, taking a moment to listen for any signs or sound from the top floor, an unintelligible musical beat just barely reaching his ears. Catherine then turns to the kitchen, leaving Charles with Molly. He opens the door on the right-hand side of the hallway and nods his head for her to come in. When she's seated on the sofa he takes a moment to sit beside her.   
 _"_ _Molly,"_ his hand drifts towards her, his fingers lightly picking at the hem of her sleeve, not daring to touch her, _"you are not a guest here, this is your home. Don't feel like you have to ask for anything, okay? Just... be. You're safe and anything here is yours."_

He knows he can't explain her into feeling comfortable but he hates the thought of her feeling the need to get permission from him for anything. He'd gladly wait on her if she'd need anything but he wants her to be at ease, to be able to let go of all her worries and insecurities and just relax. She nods slowly, her finger slipping into his, a small smile appears on her lips but doesn't reach her eyes.   
 _"I'm going upstairs for a moment to check on Sam and I'll be back, okay? Will you be okay here? Do you need anything?"_  

She shakes her head,  _"I'll be fine."_  

Unsure, Charles exits the room, leaving the door open and Molly has a chance to look around her.

The dark blue sofa she's sitting on divides the room into two uneven sections. Behind her, is a row of windows facing the street, colorful cushions set along the wide windowsills to be used as benches or niches to sit in and enjoy the sun coming in through the windows. At the end of the room against the wall stands a cabinet holding board games and books, a large comfy carpet lays before it, under a bean bag, indicating a space to play. Her eyes follow the books also shelved above the windows. The sofa she is sitting on faces two matching but not identical armchairs, a tv screen hangs on the wall behind them. It's a comfortable room, giving the feeling that it's meant for living, not just for show or entertaining. Its colors respectable but playful and soothing; It's a room meant for family life. 

To her right, in line with the sofa, is a fireplace. She walks around the coffee table to take a look at the pictures lined above the fireplace. There are a few of Charles with a small boy she realizes is Sam, his age differs from picture to picture, he comes to resemble his father more and more as he grows up. Next, she finds a group picture, sitting around a beautifully set table she sees herself standing next to Charles, his hand on her shoulder, their fingers weaved together. Sam is standing between Charles and Catherine and on her other side sits a man of about the same age, Molly assumes is Charles' father.   
The last picture is a Polaroid picture of Charles and her at a train station; Both oblivious to the camera, it caught them smiling at each other as he holds her raised in his arms.

A few minutes later she hears loud footsteps running down the stairs and Sam comes to a halt at the open door. They look at each other.  _"Hi Sam,"_

 _"Hello Molly, you've been away for a long time,"_  he says, still standing at the door. _"Dad went to help gran with the tea."_  He then enters the room, fiddling with his sleeves, she can sense he is as unsure as she is,  _"he says I should be extra nice to you."_  

Molly smiles,  _"That's sweet Sam, but I think I'd prefer it if you were just normal nice to me. Everybody's being so extra nice all the time, it's making me nuts. You think you could do that for me, just behave regularly around me?"_  

Sam nods and comes closer,  _"So what do you want to do? We could play a board game,"_

 _"Sure, you pick one,"_ she sits back on the sofa _,_  grateful for his understanding. Though he's mature for his age, he still holds that unique ability kids have, to just put the strangeness aside by being kids. 

 _"You know how to play chess?"_  he asks from the corner, looking at the games neatly piled on the shelves in the cabinet. 

 _"Umm, no, sorry. But checkers I can do..."_  

 _"_ _Okay,"_  he pulls out the board and brings it to the table,  _"I could teach you chess, I'm on the school team."_  

Molly laughs lightly _, "I'd like that Sam, but not today, okay? I'm a bit tired today to focus on learning something new."_  

He nods as he sets the board, sitting on the floor across from her. It's then, Charles pops his head through the door, taking in the scene.  _"It seems we are out of milk, I'll pop out to the store to get some. Do you need anything from the store Molly?"_  

She automatically shakes her head, used to avoid being a hassle but then she looks at Sam setting the board, an idea coming to her head _. "Actually,"_  she says carefully, Charles eyeing her as he comes closer, registering the mischief look in her eyes,  _"there is something I've been missing, maybe we could treat ourselves after tea?"  
_ She raises her eyesatCharles and he can't help but smile, thinking he'd do anything for her; if she'd ask for candyfloss and marshmallows for dinner, he'd probably agree. He stands above her smiling and she gestures for him to come closer, wanting to whisper it in his ear to keep it a surprise from Sam. He crouches down beside her, his heart fluttering with the ease of the situation _,_ bringing his ear to her lips. _"I wouldn't half kill for a Walnut Whip,"_ she then chuckles as he looks at her, wondering if she remembers their shared joke about it. He nods as he slowly gets up, now bending to her ear.

 _"No need for violence, Dawes, I'm sure it can be arranged."_ He then sets a light kiss on her cheek before straightening the whole way up and heading for the door.

.

A few minutes into their game, Sam surprises her with a question;  _"Molly,"_  his voice is careful,  _"is it true you were kidnapped by a terror group in Afghanistan?"_  

She looks at him intently, surprised at his knowledge. She can see his uncertainty but also his need for answers. She nods slowly,  _"Yes Sam, that's why I was away for so long. They kept me captive. How do you know about that? Did your dad talk to you about it?"_

_"No. He doesn't know I know. A boy at school talked about it one day, he said your name and then I looked it up on mom's computer."_

He shares the information and she can feel he's giving trust in her as his father would probably disapprove of him addressing the subject or even knowing about it. They sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment, she can see he's got more on his mind.  _"Is there anything you would like to ask me, Sam? I don't mind talking about with you, it's okay."_  

He looks at her, unsure, and then his eyes fall to the board, his voice small,  _"Did they hurt you?"_  

She's unsure how to answer, what would be an answer that won't terrify him _. "They tried to Sam, but I'm here now, I'm alright."_  She wants to settle his fears, _"Sam, look at me,"_  he raises his eyes to her and she can see he's fighting the tears, " _I'm right here Sam, I'm alright. Do you believe me?"_  he nods his head but she can see he's still scared.  _"Come here."_    
He stands up and climbs onto the sofa next to her, she leans in and wraps her arms around him, pulling him to her. He responds by hugging her tightly, tears running down his cheeks and onto her shirt.  _"Shhh,"_ she whispers into his hair, gently stroking his back,  _"I'm right here, you don't need to be scared anymore, it's alright. It's alright."_  

It's then they hear Charles' voice at the front door,  _"I'm back."_  

Molly and Sam look at each other, smiling bashfully as they wipe tears from their eyes. She then squeezes his hand and says softly _, "Go wash your face and come back for scones and tea. I'll set us up for a new game, how's that sound?"_  he nods slightly and stands up beside the sofa. 

_"I'm glad you're back Molly. Also because dad was really sad when you were gone but also because I missed you."_

_"Me too, Sam, me too."_  She smiles at him,  _"Now go on."_

_..._

At 2AM Charles wakes abruptly, scared. He listens in the darkness, to see if he can identify any sound or movement. But the silence doesn't bring calmness. Coming out of the studio, where he had been sleeping, he sees light emitting from the bedroom, where Molly is sleeping. But when he left her there earlier tonight, he had turned the light off. He nears the door, trying to hear anything on the other side. Hearing nothing, he slowly opens the door, hoping to find her asleep, having the light on as mere comfort. But as he pushes the door, his fears materialize, his heart in his throat, he sees the bed is ruffled but empty.   
Looking around the room, he finds her at last, sitting in the far corner, her back pushed against the wall, her knees folded to her chin. In the dim light, he sees her eyes are open but she doesn't react to his movement as he comes closer _._

 _"Molly?"_  he whispers, it's so low you wouldn't hear it but she jumps, alarmed, quickly focusing her eyes on him, fully alert.  _"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,"_  he crouches down on his knees to sit in front of her. _"Were you asleep?"_   She nods slowly, still calming her breath. _"Sorry, your eyes were open, I thought..."_

 _"Force of habit,"_  she whispers _._

_"What are you doing on the floor?"_

_"The bed was too big, I..."_  she looks at him and falls silent. He looks at her for a moment, not knowing what to say. After a short while in which they sit in silence looking at each other, she slowly raises her hand, uncertain, trembling, she brings it to his face, her finger fluttering lightly as she traces his features. He feels odd but doesn't want to stop her, sensing she's trying to find something within her. Though she's right there, incredibly close and intimate, it's as if she's a million miles away. Her fingers hover along his left cheekbone, down his jawline, and up his chin, barely caressing his lower lip, it moves up his nose to the crease above his eyes, stopping lightly on the small mole between them. It's then she seems to catch herself, becomes aware of what she's doing and she pulls her hand back, mumbling apologies. 

 _"Molly, what will help you? What can I do?"_ his voice is soft, worried, as he looks into her eyes. 

 _"I don't know,"_  she says shaking her head. He can see she's tired but it's more than that, it's as if she has succumbed to this state, to the reality of not sleeping in a bed, she has accepted it. 

 _"How did you sleep at your mom's?"_  she smiles a small, crooked, ashamed smile but doesn't answer.  _"You didn't? At all?"_

_"With my mum for a couple of nights, and then,"_

_"What?"_

_"Well, my room is not so big at home, is it? My bed is not so big and,"_

_"And what?"_  

She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes avoiding his. Now it's his turn to extend his hand, of its own accord his thumb flutters along the dark rings under her eyes. He kicks himself for not taking notice earlier. An idea comes to his head, he's shy to even suggest it.  _"Will it help if I stay with you?"_    
She raises her eyes to his, piercing green and wide but her face stays frozen.  _"I won't... Molly, please let me help, you need to sleep before you make yourself sick. Let me stay so you can sleep, please."_ He carefully stretches a hand toward her, waiting for her to make her decision.

Sitting on a chair next to her bed, his mind wandering, he suddenly feels a light tug on the hand she's holding between hers. _"You can't sit there all night, you also need sleep."_  she says looking at him through tired eyes _._

 _"I'm fine,"_  he whispers, stretching his hand to stroke her hair,  _"try to sleep."_

 _"Charles, stop arguing with me and come here. I can't sleep knowing you aren't."_  

There is something in her voice preventing him from arguing. As she pulls him into bed he follows silently, laying on his side, letting her define the distance and proximity between them. To his surprise, she folds into him, curling into a ball against his chest, her fingers clenching his shirt. _"Molly?"_  

_"Sorry, but otherwise the bed is still too big. I need to feel something, like a wall, to know where it ends, to know no danger is coming from at least one side. I know it's stupid, but it's the only way, I'm sorry."_

_"Stop apologizing,"_  he says softly as his hand circles her back _,"there is no danger here from any side, you're at home, you're safe."_  

They lay like that for a while, their eyes closed, but he can sense she's still awake.  _"I haven't slept in this bed in months."_ he suddenly confesses quietly. She cracks an eye to look at him.  _"Couldn't,"_  he whispers,  _"not without you here to be my wall."_   He smiles at her and she smiles back, snuggling further into him.

An hour later he awakes feeling her jolting and jerking, whimpering frantically, her body having turned away from him during the night. The sight of her so helpless and distressed yet unconscious breaks his heart and scares him. He realizes what a strain it must be on her, to keep up the façade of control and calmness during the day. He's not sure what to do, if he should wake her or hold her, afraid that his actions will scare her. He thinks back to her words, the need to feel herself against something to feel secure. He nudges himself gently toward her, until his torso is adjacent to her body, giving her time to feel him, to find her way to rest against him again, he then circles his arm slowly around her back, holding her to him until he can feel her quiet down, her muscles relax, her slumber still.


	27. Request

Sitting on the grass, watching Sam climbing the jungle gym, Molly gathers the courage to speak her mind. It's an impossible conversation and she knows it's gonna break his heart but it itches in every fibre of her body.  _"Charles,"_  

He can hear it in her voice, though it's the last thing he wants, he knows what's coming.  _"Please don't do this Molly, please."_

_"I have to,"_

_"No, you don't. It's only been a few days, please just try a little longer."_

_"Charles,"_ she gathers up her strength,  _"you have to let me go."_

_"I can't Molly, please don't ask me to, not again. I fought so fucking hard to get you back."_

_"I know, I know and I'm sorry. But I'm not ready, it's too much."_ She pauses for a second checking his reaction, _"You've been lovely, perfect actually and I hate that I can't be the same in return."_

_"You are Molly, to me you are,"_

_"No, Charles, I'm not. I still have things to fix, to find, to understand."_

_"Why can't you do that from here?"_ he feels like a little boy refusing to let his mother leave for work like he's fighting to hold on to a buoy, to stay afloat in the middle of a deep dark sea. 

 _"Because it's not fair on you. I know you haven't been sleeping because of me. I know you worry and you can't go on like this, you need to be there for Sam, you have responsibilities, you need to get back to your life, instead you're babysitting me."_ There is the tiniest tone of resentment in her words, her inability to accept being cared for. 

 _"My life is with you."_ He insists, _"I-"_

 _"It's driving both of us crazy, Charles,"_ she cuts in in earnest _"It's not good. We talked about choosing, about being equal. I need time to find me again, who I am, what I want and I can't do that here with you hovering over me, I'm sorry."_ She knows it's harsh but she needs him to understand, maybe even resent her but let her go.  _"I_   _want to go,"_  she adds in a low voice, knowing it will be the final straw that he'd never deny her that, _"it's what I want."_  

She sees the hurt in his face even though he's determinedly keeping his eyes away from her, following Sam around the playground. He gets up silently and walks to play with the boy and she knows he's fighting against his own feelings to accommodate hers. She hates being so unfair but it's as if she's on pause ever since she'd arrived, she feels like the rose in  _Beauty and the beast_ , locked and dying in a glass bell.

A few minutes later Sam comes up to her, standing before her, his hands tugging at his shirt.  _"Dad says we're going."_    
She nods at him and she can see he's thinking about something,  _"Did you guys have a fight?"_  god the bugger is sharp.

_"A disagreement. Why what did he say?"_

_"Nothing, he's just different from before, when we came. Sadder."_  

 _"Hey Sam, sit for a moment, I want to tell you something."_   The boy sits close to her, comfortably half leaning on her thigh, looking at her in anticipation.   
_"I, uh, need to go back to London for a while, that's why your dad's upset with me. You think you could help me out and look after him while I'm gone? Make sure he doesn't get too sad?"_

 _"Yeah, I guess,"_ Sam says almost matter of factly but then a question forms in his mind.  _"You are coming back though, right?"_  

Overwhelmed by the question and the tone of his voice butkeeping in mind the conversation they had a few days ago when she'd just arrived - the amount of knowledge and maturity he'd presented - she decides to be as honest as possible, without scaring him.   
 _"I hope so Sam. I just need to get all the way better. But I'm not disappearing, okay, I'll just be in London, you can ring me on your dad's phone if you want. Maybe you can even convince him to come visit me when he's a bit less angry... what do think of that, a day in London?"_    
She knows it will do the trick and appeal to him, feeling guilty for using such cheap methods to get to Charles. She's aware he'll be well pissed when Sam brings it up but maybe that's for the best, breaking the unbearable pedestal he's put her on. Sam grins up at her, light beaming in his eyes at the idea, she can't stop herself from tossling his hair and circling an arm around him for a hug.  _"Come on,"_ she says as she gets up, taking Sam's hand,  _"let's go find your dad, we both know how much he hates waiting..."_  but her thoughts wander to how patient Charles' has actually been with her through all of this, how long he's had to wait for her, guilt rising in her again.


	28. Ridges

Dinner had been downright uncomfortable, Charles having engulfed himself in silence, had barely spoken two words, avoiding any direct communication with her, everything being childishly mediated through Sam. When they'd gotten home earlier, he went directly to the kitchen, mumbling something about calling them when dinner's ready. Molly had gone upstairs to pack her things and check trains back to London for the next day.

Sitting in front of the open wardrobe, she felt the sudden magnitude of this simple task – what should she take with her? How symbolic would an empty wardrobe be? Though she needs to take some things, - most of her clothes being here and needing them in London - she didn't mean for it to feel so final. She knows it's just one more thing that will hurt Charles but she can't help it.   
And she could see it in his face when he came to call her for dinner; Any slight reconciliation he'd been considering while preparing dinner had evaporated as he stood at the door of the bedroom, taking in the packed duffle bag on the bed.

 _"Dinner,"_  he uttered under his breath, leaving before she could respond and then he was locked behind his wall of silence and frustration.

..

Unspoken, Charles went to bed in the studio, leaving her to drown in the size of the bed and her own thoughts. After hours of lying awake, sleep tantalizing her from a distance as her body aches at the thought of Charles' anger and hurt, she slips out of bed and into the corridor, to sit outside his room, hoping he's as restless as she is and he'd come looking for her as well. Through the door, she can hear him twisting and turning, the bed creaking under his weight as he fights against the jumble in his head.   
She boldly and slowly opens the door, the click of the handle sounding as loud and tense as the hammer of a revolver. 

In the darkness, she can see his eyes shoot at her as she steps into the room, her back against the wall. Closing the door behind her she stands there, pondering what to do, she can feel his eyes on her, the tension in his body. She sinks down to sit at the door, her legs folded under her, her eyes not leaving his, indicating she's here to stay.

 _"What are you doing here?"_  he grunts eventually, a tone of resentment to be heard through the tiredness as he turns his back to her, facing the other way.

 _"Charles, don't do this,"_ she pleas quietly.

 _"I'm not doing anything,"_  he ignites at her, furious _, "you are. You're the one leaving, this is me not hovering."_

She can hear the hurt in his voice as he tries to control himself.  _"This is you punishing me away,"_ she challenges him but he doesn't bite, instead he gives up the battle, baring himself.

 _"This is me heartbroken, Molly."_  his voice cracking,  _"I don't think you understand."_

_"I do-"_

_"No, you don't."_ he finally turns back to face her. _"If you did you'd have decided otherwise. But I don't want to talk about this. If you feel you need to go I won't stop you but you can't expect me to be happy about it."_ His voice is now empty of anger, of almost anything, he's merely stating facts. She's not sure what hurts more, his anger or his indifference.

 _"Where does it leave us?"_ she asks carefully.

_"I don't know, you're the one that needs space,"_

_"Will you answer my calls if I ring you?"_

_"Yes, Molly, I've told you I'd be here if you needed me."_

_"You used to say if I want you."_ She feels him freeze, a rush of anger going through him but his voice stays calm, defeated.

_"Well, I'm not sure you do. Want me."_

She doesn't know how to answer that.  _"Will you call me?"_  she asks, afraid of his answer,

 _"Probably, eventually, when I can't take it anymore,"_  he says blankly. She finds the courage to get up, slowly walking towards his bed. A memory of a dream he had in Bastion flashes through his mind and he locks his jaw to avoid it taking over him. 

Reaching him, Molly sits on the floor beside his bed, a careful hand stretched to stroke his curls,  _"I am sorry,"_  she whispers.

 _"I know,"_  he says and after a moment he takes hold of her hand, bringing it to his lips, holding it in his, wondering how their roles have reversed.

.

An hour or so later he wakes up to find her fallen asleep in the same position, her head rested against his bed, her body shivering in the cold.

 _"Christ Molly, you're freezing, get in here"_  he whispers, waking her up. Worry overtaking anything else, he automatically pulls her up into the bed, making room for her against his body, his hand rubbing along her arms and legs to warm her up, one arm circling under her, pinning her arms as he spoons against her.  _"Fuck, your feet are cold,"_  he laughs as he stretches a hand down across her body to rub her feet, her knees folding to her chest to make the access easier. It's as if their bodies know how best they fit together, they're immediately comfortable and comforted.

...

At 9:00 AM Catherine arrives and Molly understands, even through his anger yesterday, Charles had arranged for his mother to look after Sam, allowing them a private farewell when he drives her to her train station. Catherine, smiling warmly at Molly, doesn't seem to be upset with Molly's decision and Molly wonders how much Charles has told her. But as she leans in to hug Molly goodbye, she whispers in her ear.

 _"'A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.' And you, my girl, are loved here, dearly. Take care of yourself and I do hope you find your way back soon."_ Before Molly can even process the remark, Catherine sets a kiss on Charles' cheek, whispering something in his ear, Molly can't hear.  _"Be good to her,"_  she says eyeing Charles sharply. With that, she turns and disappears into the kitchen. " _Come on Sam, tea."_

Sam flings his arms around Molly,  _"Bye Molly,"_  he says as he hugs her.

 _"Bye Sam. You remember our deal?"_  she asks as she straightens back from his embrace smiling at him as he nods,  _"Good. Bye then."_  She says as she picks up her gear, avoiding Charles' questioning look.

 _"I'll be back soon,"_  Charles tells his son, closing the door behind him. 

 _"_ _What was that about? What deal did you make with Sam?"_  he asks curiously as they put the bags in the boot of the car.

 _"Oh, nothing big, just that he'll take care of you while I'm gone. Make sure you're not too sad..."_  She says lightly.

_"I wish you hadn't, Molly, that's not his job, he's just a kid."_

_"He knows more than you think, Charles, he deserves more credit than you give him."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Kids pick up on things, they are more aware than we'd like them to be sometimes. I think you should talk to him about what happened, what's happening, he might surprise you."_

Charles' eyebrows shoot up at her remark, his curiosity piqued but he doesn't say anything. instead, they climb into the car and drive off in silence.

..

Standing at the tracks, her train arriving, Molly isn't sure what to do, how to say goodbye. Trying to avoid the embarrassment of the unclear proximity between them, she holds onto her bags, they hang heavily around her shoulders. But Charles' hand reaches to the straps at her shoulders, he quickly lifts the weight from her, setting the bags to the floor. He encircles her in his arm, holding on to her, embracing her tightly, etching to his mind the feel of her body against his.

 _"I love you,"_  he whispers in her ear,  _"that hasn't changed. That will never change."_ He now looks into her eyes and she nods in understanding, a small ashamed smile on her lips.  _"Now piss off,"_ he says, smiling, _"before I change my mind and not let you go."_

She climbs into the train and finds her seat, her head appearing out the window. They look at each other until the train and the track disappear from sight. 


	29. Ringing II

_"Hi,"_

_"Hi,"_

_"Am I disturbing? Were you in the middle of something?"_

_"No, no. It's fine."_

_"Took you a while to answer,"_

_"Yeah, sorry, I was, just..."_

_"How've you been?"_

_"Fine. Busy I guess. You?"_

_"Yeah, went down to Headly, had my meeting with Stravinsky, you know,"_

_"Hmm."_

_"Do you not want to talk to me?"_

Silence

_"Nothing has changed, Molly, it's been two days. Has anything changed?"_

_"No, guess not."_

_"So,"_

_"I'll catch you later then, yeah?"_

_"Okay."_

_"Bye, Charles."_

_"Bye."_

_..._

 

_"Hi,"_

_"Charles, hi! wait just one sec, ... Yeah, hi,"_

_"Am I interrupting, is this an inconvenient time?"_

_"No, no, it's perfect timing, I'm just finishing a shift, I'm glad you called"_

_"A shift? What shift? It's 23:00"_

_"I uh, I'm volunteering with the NHS Ambulance service a couple times a wee-"_

_"You're what?! Christ, Molly, you really do go look for trouble,"_

_"No, I don't, Charles -"_

_"What's the matter with you?! You're supposed to be resting, figuring it out, instead, you're running around London in ungodly hours, treating god knows who -"_

_"Nothing is the matter with me, thank you very much. But I can't sit at home all day and stew, can I?! I need to work, to do something. I'm a medic for crying out loud, I can help people, even if you and your bleeding army can't seem to see it, let me do my job and stop treating me like an invalid. I fucking survived the Taliban, me, I think I know what I'm capable of. I talked it over with Stravinsky, did the NHS exams to see what I remember, if I can cut it and I did. So I volunteer twice a week in London, London, not the outlands of east Afghanistan, we fucking treat babies with hiccups and old geezers with Asthma attacks, I'm never alone out there so nothing's gonna happen and if you've got a problem with it, mate, you can keep it to yourself, I've had it up to my tits with criticism."_

_"Sorry,"_

_"Yeah well, me too. Look, I'm knackered, it's been a long day, can we talk tomorrow or something?"_

_"Yes, of course. Sorry. Bye."_

_"Bye."_

_..._

 

INBOX, Message received 10:25 AM, From: Molly:  
_Hi, sorry about yesterday, I didn't mean to blow-up at you, can we try again today?_

INBOX, Message received 11:03 AM, From: Charles Josef James:   
 _Yes, I'll call later._

INBOX, Message received 11:05 AM, From: Charles Josef James:  
_I'm sorry too, it was unfair of me to start yelling without hearing you out. I just worry._

INBOX, Message received 11:08 AM, From: Molly:  
 _I get it, but you don't need to, really. I'm fine._

INBOX, Message received 11:15 AM, From: Charles Josef James:  
_Can't help it. I know you are. You're brilliant. Xx_

INBOX, Message received 11:18 AM, From: Molly:  
 _:)_

_..._

 

_"Hi,"_

_"Hi,"_

_"Is this a good time?"_

_"Yeah,"_

_"No shift today?"_

_"Nah, not every day, just twice a week."_

_"I'm sorry about yesterday... I didn't mean to lose it, I just..."_

_"Yeah, me too. Let's just leave it, yeah? Water under the bridge and that..."_

_"I'd like to hear about you volunteering though, did you really clear it with Stravinsky?"_

_"Well, yes and no. We talked about it, she wasn't thrilled but she couldn't stop me. And I feel it's right for me, you know, to be out there, to help. It's what I do best. It's like my body remembers, I'm in my zone. Otherwise, I sit all day and my mind takes over."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Memories, images, nightmares. It's not a fun bag..."_

_"You managing to sleep?"_

_"So-so, better after a shift actually, I come back so knackered, I'm asleep before the springs hit the floor. So, uh, why did you call yesterday? Anything specific or just..?"_

_"I, uh, I took your advice and talked to Sam."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yeah. I can't believe how much he knows, he's known all along, how much he's been carrying around. I'm such an idiot for not noticing, for thinking I could spare it from him."_

_"You're not an idiot. It's not an easy situation, there are no rules,"_

_"Yeah but I could have noticed, listened. I never took the time to listen. He's been so afraid and he covered it up so it won't upset me more. How much of an ass am I that my 9 years old son spares my feelings instead of the other way around? I feel like such an ass."_

_"You're not an ass. Don't be so hard on yourself."_

_"Did I do it to you?"_

Silence _._

_"I have, haven't I? Shit."_

_"Charles,"_

_"Am I really so self-centered?"_

_"No, Charles. That's the last thing I can say about you. Forgetting or not. You're the most caring person I know. It's just,"_

_"What? Tell me"_

_"Sometimes you get so caught up in a mission, a goal, you forget not everything is army regulations, not everyone is a soldier. Things, people, are more complicated than the army likes them to be, and sometimes it's easier to go to regulations."_

_"Look where it got me – I've lost you and my son's dealing with things he shouldn't be,"_

_"You haven't lost me"_

_"Haven't I?"_

_"No. I challenge you exactly at those points where you need to see some gray. That's also why I can stand up to you and remind you to see the person and not the mission."_

_"See, I knew I needed you in my life."_

Silence _._

_"What am I going to do about Sam?"_

_"I think you already know the answer to that."_

_"Yeah, I guess I do. Does that apply to you too? Will that bring you back to me?"_

_"Try it and see."_

Silence

_"Charles, I just need some time,"_

_"Yeah, I know."_

_"It was good talking to you, though,"_

_"Ditto Molly,"_

_"I know what that means now Charles, I remember."_

And with that, she hangs up.


	30. Rite of passage

An unknown number flashes on his screen as the phone gently vibrates in his hand. He contemplates for a moment to let it go to voicemail, at this hour it can't be anything that can't wait for tomorrow. His day has been long and boring, he's restless and impatient, can't seem to shake the feeling of loneliness eating at him recently. Maybe that's the reason why he does answer, his finger swiping the screen as he brings the phone to his ear,  _"James."_

 _"Captain Charles James?"_  the female voice on the line is sweet yet direct, tickling his curiosity.  _"I'm speaking from East Ham Memorial Hospital, you're written down as miss Molly Dawes' next of kin..?"_

_"Yes, what's happened, is she alright?"_

_"_ _Yes, she was brought in just under an hour ago, hospital policy requires us to make contact with her NOK."_

_"But what's happened?"_  he tries to fight the panic rising inside him, thanking whoever, he'd answered the call. 

_"I can't really relate the details on the phone. She'd been suffering from abdominal pain and was brought in by an ambulance. The doctors are now running tests."_

_"I'm on my way,"_

_"Captain James, can you tell us if she's allergic to anything? Anything we need to know about her medical history?"_

_"I don't think she's allergic to anything, I've got her medical file here, I'll bring it with me. Do you know who she is?"_

_"What do you mean?"_  

_"Who's her attending doctor, I'd like to speak with the doctor responsible for her case, please."_

_"One moment sir, let me check if she's available."_  

A moment passes, in which he silently curses every profanity he can think of, he's so confused he can't seem to remember where he'd parked his car. At last another voice comes to the line, this time more mature and less patient,  _" Dr Stoke here,"_

_"Yes, doctor, this is Captain Charles James, I understand you have Lance Corporal Molly Dawes in your care."_

_"Yes, she's been admitted with abdominal pain, we're running tests now."_

_"Right, well, the young woman who phoned me didn't seem to know who Dawes was, or what her past is, I wanted to make sure you know what you're dealing with. Lance Corporal Dawes is a CMT in her majesty's army, currently on leave for rehabilitation. While on tour she'd been taken hostage by the Taliban in Afganistan and was six months in enemy hands, having undergone tortuous investigations; she's just returned to the UK a few weeks ago."_  

 _"Oh my, okay, yes that rings a bell. I've read about that in the paper."_  

That's not good enough for him.  _"Dr Stoke, you do not only have one of Britain's most valued hero's at your care, but she is also the single most important woman in my life, and I implore and demand you take care of her in the best way possible. I will be there in about an hour, with her full medical record_." 

 _"Yes sir, I understand."_  

He hangs up, having finally found his car and climbed in, ready to start his drive. He hadn't meant to be so strict though he hadn't meant to be so personal either. His worry just let it slip out _, 'Never mind,'_  he tells himself  _'it is what it is'_ , the important thing is they take care of her and that he gets there. But he has to remind himself again and again to control the car and his speed; He cannot make it there in an hour without seriously crossing the speed limit, and if he does, he might not get there at all.

..

An hour and 35 minutes later, he comes rushing into the hospital, looking for the information desk.  _"I'm looking for private Molly Dawes. I'm her NOK. Or doctor Stoke, I'm looking for doctor Stoke."_

 _"Sir, please calm down,"_  he must look panicked and hysterical, catching his breath from running into the hospital.

He nods at her,  _"Sorry, I got a call saying Dawes was brought in, about two hours ago. Her doctor is doctor Stoke, I have her medical file with me and it's important I get it to the doctor."_

 _"I understand, let me just find doctor Stoke for you, patient Molly Dawes is in room 1.402, just on the left, I'll ask the doctor to find you there, how's that sound?"_  he nods again, looking in the direction she'd pointed out the room.

 _"Thank you, thank you,"_  he says and then leaves towards the room. 

His panic rises again as he nears the door, not sure what he's going to find behind it. He stops to control his breath and reorganize himself. Opening the door, he sees Molly lying on the bed, under the covers, folded in a fetal position. On a chair not far from her, sits a man he does not recognize. As he comes into the room, the man rises to greet him. 

_"_ _Captain James, it's so nice to meet you, wish the circumstances were different, though, I've heard so much about you."_

Taken aback by surprise, Charles doesn't succeed to be as polite,  _"I'm sorry, who are you? Why are you here with Dawes?"_

_"I'm Alex, her photography teacher, I was with her this evening, I'm the one that called the meds, but they won't really tell me anything about her condition."_

_"Photography teacher?"_

_"Uh, yes, it's part of her rehabilitation program, recommended by Stravinsky. Apparently, a creative let-out is sometimes helpful when dealing with trauma. I must say she got the hang of it quite quickly, she's very talented."_  

He's had enough, not only was he not expecting to find her again in a hospital bed so soon, but to find her accompanied by another man, rambling about her, is just too much.  _"Can you give us a few minutes?"_

 _"Yes, of course, sure, I'll be outside. I'd be really grateful if you could, eventually, fill me in on what's going on?"_  

Charles' expression just locks back to being cold and stern as he nods absentmindedly at the man, reluctant to share anything about Molly with him. His focus already turned to Molly, he waits for the man to leave, before nearing the bed. Her eyes are closed, but he's not sure she's sleeping. His hand finds it's way, of its own accord, to her short hair, he gently winds a lock around his finger,  _"Dawes?"_  he whispers, his head not far from her ear. 

A smile forms on her lips just at the sound of his voice, her eyes crack open.  _"Charles,"_  she sighs with relief.  _"What are you doing here?"_  she asks a moment later, realizing it's not of the ordinary for him to be standing by her bed in London. They haven't seen each other in a few weeks since she'd requested some time. 

 _"No, Molly, what are you doing here? I thought you'd have had enough of hospitals for a while. If you wanted to see me, you could've just called, no need for all this drama."_  He tries to make light of the situation, not wishing to focus on him rushing to her in a time of need. 

 _"But what are you doing here? Why didn't they call my mum?"_  

He shrugs,  _"Apparently, I'm still listed as your NOK, since Afghan. You haven't changed it. You want to tell me what happened?"_  

_"My stomach was bothering me the entire evening, at some point, it got really bad and there was blood, so we thought it best to have it looked at."_

_"Blood?"_  he echoes the word that has stuck to his brain, letting the 'we' go. It's then the door opens and a tall dark-skinned woman steps in. She's about 40 years old, her long dark hair held up in perfect tight rings at the top of her head, she's wearing a white doctor's coat. 

 _"Captain James, I'm Doctor Stoke,"_  she extends her hand for him to shake,  _"I understand you've brought Molly's medical file?"_

 _"Yes, right here."_  

She takes the file from him, going over it quickly and turning to Molly _, "And you, Molly, how are you feeling?"_

 _"What's going on, doctor?"_  Molly asks ignoring her question. 

_"Well, actually, it's good news."_

_"Good? I know good news and let me tell you, it doesn't feel like this,"_  Molly complains _._

 _"_ _What do you mean, doctor?"_  Charles tries to get some more information before jumping to conclusions. The doctor hesitates for a moment, eyeing Charles _._

 _"_ _Molly, are you sure you wouldn't prefer to hear this in private?"_  

Molly and Charles look at each other for a moment.  _"No, it's fine, he can hear it. With the state he's seen me in, it can't get much worse."_  Her hand finds his and he gives it a squeeze. 

 _"Well, Molly,"_  the doctor goes on,  _"it seems you're menstruating."_

_"What?!"_

_"Which is a good thing,"_  the doctor continues,  _"it means your body is recovering from the trauma you've undergone."_ She notices Molly's confusion. _"When a woman suffers from extreme conditions, such as malnutrition, or lack of hygienic conditions or sunlight, as I understand you've suffered from, the body shuts down systems that it doesn't critically require to survive, excess systems if you will._ _Now that you're eating again, stable again, your body is also reacting, allowing for your period to return."_  

 _"Well, it should have bloody asked."_ Molly grumbles. _"If I'd known it'd hurt so much, I'm not sure I'd go along with it. Why does it hurt like this? It never used to be this bad."_  

 _"I believe that is just, rusty pipes, if I may call it that. Your body hasn't done what it's supposed to do for a few months, reactivating the system is bound to be uncomfortable. We've put you on mild painkillers for the night, You should be feeling better by tomorrow."_   Molly nods at the doctor, a flush of red covering her cheeks. 

 _"Thank you, Dr Stoke,"_  Charles tries to take the focus off Molly, realizing her discomfort. 

 _"It's my job,"_  she smiles,  _"I'll add the necessary forms into this and bring it back to you shortly,"_  she waives the folder containing Molly's medical file. And excuses herself to leave the room.

Looking back at Molly, he finds she's folded back into the fetal position, hiding her face with the sheet.  _"Molls,"_  

 _"Please don't make fun of me,"_  comes her reaction _, "I'm mortified enough as is. I can't believe I didn't think about that."_

 _"I'm not going to make fun of you. It's good you came to the hospital. With your history, we can't take anything too lightly when it comes to your health."_  She doesn't answer him, though he knows she's listened.  _"You want me to go, let you rest?"_

 _"No,"_  she looks up at him,  _"will you stay with me?"_

He can see the insecurity in her eyes as she asks that, but also a flicker of fire. His heart beats a mile a minute, a lump of excitement building in his throat,  _"If that's what you want."_

 _"It is."_  He bites the inside of his cheek, to stop himself from smiling.  _"Let me just go to the loo for a moment,"_ she says as she gets up. 

 _"What do you want me to tell Alex?"_  he asks unsure, wanting perhaps to gain some details about the man she'd spent the evening with. 

 _"Shit, is he still around?"_  Charles nods.  _"Wait here, I'll go talk to him. I need to ask the nurse for something anyway."_  With that she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. 

He fiddles with his phone while he waits for her, texting Rebecca that there's been an emergency and he might be late to pick up Sam the next day, then he ponders if he should, perhaps, let Belinda know they're at the hospital but Molly comes back before he can decide, going straight into the adjacent toilet. 

 _"You want to let your mom know you're here?"_  he asks, raising his voice to her so she'd hear behind the door, but she doesn't answer immediately. 

 _"No,"_  she says calmly when she comes out wiping her hands, _"leave it."_  She then climbs onto the bed and he pulls the chair closer. 

_"Hey, Molls,"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Congratulations."_

_"What for?"_

_"You're a woman now,"_  He says and can't help but grin at his own joke. 

_"Oi, piss off, you posh bugger, I hope that's not how your gonna explain it to Sam."_

_"Eh, don't remind me. That's one conversation I got the easier bargain in."_

_"For now,"_  she says without really thinking. 

His eyebrows raise at her but he doesn't dare ask what she means.  _"For now."_  he nods, locking hope into his heart.

..

 _"Tell me about your day,"_ she asks quietly after they sit in silence for a while, her eyes are closed but she holds his hand close to her, like that night in Bastion. With his other hand, he plays with a curl of her hair. 

He sighs so heavily, she opens her eyes to look at him,  _"Can I tell you the truth, Molly?"_

 _"What, have you been lying to me until now?_ " she smiles lightly but he remains serious, 

 _"No,"_  he looks into her eyes,  _"I haven't lied, I just..."_

 _"Tell me,"_  she encourages him, the pain in his face clearly notable. He looks at her again and then shrinks into the chair, his eyes to the floor.  _"I miss you. I hate being away from you. I hate not knowing what's going on with you. I hate coming here to find there's another man sitting by your bed._ _I can't sleep when you're not there. Can't bring myself to sleep in our bed without you. Then I'm grumpy and impatient and I make mistakes. I've been so miserable these past few weeks, even Sam doesn't want to spend time with me."_   He falls silent, not knowing what to do or say, guilt rising in him, he knows she doesn't need the pressure,  _"I'm sorry, I didn't m-"_

_"Charles, stop. Stop. You don't have to apologize. Maybe I should apologize, I-"_

_"No Molly, you need time, it's fair, I just,-"_

_"I miss you too."_ He looks up at her, his heart missing a beat.  _"You have nothing to worry about concerning Alex, it's not what you think. He's helping me with something as part of my therapy. And you already know I sleep better when you're here. Come here,"_  she pulls on his hand.

_"No, Molly, we can't,"_

_"Why?"_

_"Because I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from kissing you."_

_"I don't know that I want you to stop yourself."_

He's out of his chair quicker than lightning, his lips glued to hers in a fierce kiss, tasting and exploring. He's silently telling her everything he's just told her and everything he hasn't. Months of pain, and separation, and worry, and fear and loneliness and heartbreak pour into that kiss, followed by the joy of finding her, the relief of bringing her home, the gratitude of seeing her grow strong again, the excitement of discovering memories with her, the love he's always felt for her, the falling in love with her all over again; it's all there, between them, flowing between their lips, as they deepen the kiss until their lungs burn with the need for air. 


	31. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: Mild sexual content

_"Now will you climb into bed with me?"_  she asks as they catch their breath, her lips still grazing his. 

 _"Shit Molls, I didn't think you'd ever need to ask twice."_ He slowly lays beside her, their bodies settling into one another.

_"Yeah well, you've been playing hard to get."_

_"Just making sure it's for the right reasons, that you don't only use me for my body."_  he teases.

 _"_ _You bloody Bugg-"_ she suddenly cringes with pain and folds away from him, her hands pressed against her stomach.  _"Shit."_  she tries to breathe against the pain,  _"I hate this. I fucking hate this,"_  she says, tears filling her eyes. 

He shifts towards her, his torso flush against her back, his hand stroking her short hair, _"Let me, Molly,"_ he says softly in her ear as his hand moves down toward her stomach finding her hands. She doesn't budge.  _"Come on, try and relax, straighten your knees,"_  his hand finds its way between her hands, reaching the soft skin of her stomach, right at the seam of her underpants and settles there, applying the lightest of pressure where it hurts the most. 

 _"God, I love your hands,"_  she let's out under her breath, covering his hand with hers, weaving their fingers on her stomach,  _"I love you."_

_"I love you too."_

_..._

_"Charles, what are you doing?"_  

His fingers have drifted, fluttering in circles around her ankle, her knees folded to her chin, her ankles are at a perfect stretch for his fingers to reach. _"Revisiting claimed territories."_

 _"You what?!"_ _  
_

_"One Sunday,"_ he starts slowly, _"we were lying in bed and you asked me what my favourite spots on your body were, what I take with me when I'm far away on tour, what I'd claim as mine if I could. Here,"_  his thumb now creates more defined contact on her ankle.  _"And here,"_  the fingers of his other hand slowly walk across her collarbone,  _"and here,"_  his head shifts to kiss the soft dip behind her earlobe,  _"and here,"_  his hand slowly glides under her gown to find the curve of her breast, he slips his thumb to lay just under the weight of it. She gasps and takes hold of his hand, stopping him, placing his hand back on hers on her stomach. 

 _"Did I claim any territories on you?"_  She asks curiously. 

_"You did,"_

_"Where?"_  he can feel her anticipation as she holds her breath for his answer. 

 _"I'm wearing too many clothes to show you now, Molly. And I think maybe we'll wait for the chance for you to claim new ones."_  He says as he pulls her tighter to him, kissing her nape, watching as a content smile spreads across her lips at the thought, her eyes closing.

 _"And what are you doing now?"_  his hand has slowly slid down into her knickers, his fingers caressing her skin until he reaches his goal and finds her clit. 

 _"Oiling your pipes,"_  he whispers into her ear as he applies pressure and starts a light circular movement with his finger. 

_"You do know what's going on down there, right?"_

_"Yes, Molly, that's why it's my finger and not my tongue, now shhh, enjoy."_

_"Charles, we can't do this here,"_

_"Molly, we are doing this here, now calm down and open your legs for me just a tad."_

_"What if the doctor comes in?"_ her voice is still objecting but her body begins to respond to him, her legs loosen and her hip delicately pushes against his hand. 

_"It's biology, I'm sure she's seen it all before. And anyway, it's remedial, she'll approve."_

In the silence that ensues, he whispers in her ear,  _"Lie down, lie easy. Let me shipwreck in your thighs."_

_"You talking dirty now?"_

_"I'm talking poetry Molly, Dylan Thomas at his best and most dirty."_

_"Charles,"_  her breath becomes heavier. 

 _"Yes Molly,"_  he kisses the back of her ear and her neck, his right hand stroking lightly her around her nipple, 

 _"You know how long I haven't done this? How long it's been since I've..."_  His hands freeze and he opens his eyes to look at her, stunned. But then her hand slides down to find his, encouraging him on.  _"Don't stop now, please don't stop now,"_ she turns her head to find his lips, her eyes lock into his.  _"Make me come, Charles,"_  she whispers onto his lips, extracting a loud grunt from him. 

 _"Christ, Molly,"_  but she can feel the change in his body; A surge of heat running through him and a bulge appearing at his crotch against her back, making her giggle. 

 _"Hi,"_  she breathes against his lips as she kisses him again, sneaking a hand behind her, caressing him through the fabric,  _"glad you could join us,"_

 _"Molly,"_  he says as he kisses her, leaning further into her body, his fingers resuming their movement, 

_"Hmm?"_

_"Shut the fuck up."_


	32. Remnants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: Mild sexual content

_"So that happened,"_  she leans into him as they walk together, leaving the protocol-wheelchair at the door of the hospital.

 _"It did,"_  he smiles at her, kissing her temple.

 _"I think we might have a thing for hospital beds,"_  she giggles and he bends down to kiss her, pulling her body against him.

 _"I think it's more of a thing for one another."_ Their kiss is soft and patient, playful and trusting, they forget the world and enjoy one another in the bright sun and the breeze.  _"I could do this all day,"_  he whispers on her lips, taking them in again, she responds to his kiss but grazes his lips as she shakes her head lightly.

_"But not here."_

He nods but doesn't release her lips, stretching their contact as much as possible. Eventually, he pulls away and raises his head to look around, assessing where they are and what the next step is. He pulls her to sit on a bench, giving her space but keeping contact with her fingers. If it were up to him, he'd be glued to her, as much contact as possible for as long as possible; He's reminded of something Stravinsky said, in Bastion, about Molly seemingly breathing through him and admits that's how he feels, like her body is oxygen to him, like it keeps him alive.  _"What do you want to do? Where would you like to go?"_

_"Home."_

_"Our home?"_ You could light firecrackers with the excitement he's feeling as the words come out. She nods at him smiling, squinting against the sun.

_"Yeah, thought maybe we could collect my stuff from mum's and then go home. What do you have to do today? Where's Sam?"_

_"I texted Rebecca yesterday to tell her I'll be late picking him up today. We have time."_

_"So what do you think? I have to ring Headley Court about what happened and I have stuff in London next week but until then...?"_

_"Stuff?"_

_"Stuff_ ," she answers mysteriously, _"it's a surprise,"_ she leans in to kiss him.

 _"A surprise for me?"_ She nods, smiling.  _"What are you up to?"_

_"It won't be a surprise if I tell you, now will it. So what do you think about my idea? Home?"_

_"I'd love nothing more in the world, Molly."_  He finally kisses her, losing himself in their contact again.

_..._

_"Eeeufff, I smell of hospital,"_  she complains as she takes off her jacket, having just entered their house _, "and come to think of it, so do you."_   She climbs on her toes to reach his lips,  _"Fancy joining me for a bath?"_  she whispers.

 _"Always and forever, Molly,"_  he says as he picks her up and kisses her, her legs wrapping around his waist as he begins their way to the staircase. 

 _"God, how long you think you're gonna be so sappy? You going soft on me Charles_?" 

 _"Might be a while, Molly, I just can't get enough of you. Though you are going to have to climb the stairs on your own two feet, my leg can't handle that,"_  He says as he sets her down on the first step. 

She takes advantage of the height to kiss him again, pulling at his shirt for him to follow her as they slowly climb up the stairs, still connected by their lips. But she stops short of the last step, still holding onto him.  _"We can't, you know, we have to wait till my period's over."_  

He nods,  _"I know, I can wait. I'm happy just being close to you."_   She looks at him and he sees her expression becoming serious, worry filling her eyes.  _"What is Molly? We won't do anything you're not ready for."_  He says quietly. 

 _"No, I know,"_  she says _, "it's not that, it's..."_

 _"What?"_   

Instead of answering, she leads him silently to the bathroom, sitting him on the closed toilet seat and standing in front of him, thinking about how to approach the subject. 

 _"Molly, what's going on, you're freaking me out."_  

She looks at him, trying to find the strength to tell him what's on her mind and he can see she's fighting to calm her emotions. She takes his hand in hers, bringing it up to her lips to kiss his palm _. "Charles,"_  she whispers, her eyes finding his before sinking to the floor, her voice small,  _"my body is not the same as you remember it."_  a tear falls down her cheek.  _"They did things to me, they left... marks, scars, I'm not... it's not the body you fell in love with."_

 _"Molly,"_  he pulls her to him to stand between his legs, his finger wiping the tear from her cheek, searching for the words to reassure her. He hadn't even thought about that, now realizing their proximity since Bastion was always covered with layers. It's so unfair she has to carry this fear as well.  _"I don't love you for your body, I love you because of your soul and your mind and your heart, because of who you are. Whatever they did, it won't make me love you less, it will make me love you more for your strength and bravery to stay alive and overcome it._

 _"You are still and always will be the most beautiful woman_   _I know_   _and you are the only one I want._   _And I think you already know I find you irresistibly sexy._ _We don't have to do anything if you're not ready, but you don't have anything to be afraid of. Nothing will put me off you, I'm not going anywhere."_ His eyes never leave hers as he speaks, nor when he's finished and silence spreads.

After a moment, she takes his hand and guides it to the top of her blouse, waiting for him to pull at the buttons to reveal her skin. He does, slowly, opening two buttons he allows his fingers to flutter against her skin, making her breath hitch. His hands continue their journey down, pushing the material away to expose more skin. His eyes fall on a long brown mark across her rib cage, his fingers trailing along it, his eyes find hers in question. 

 _"A belt,"_  she whispers and this time it's him that sheds a tear. On her right hip bone, he sees two pink round scars, residues of cigarette burns. He slowly turns her around to look at her back, thin white stripes crisscrossing along it. His fingers hover over them, unable to grasp what he's seeing until they come to rest on the clips of her bra. He opens the clips swiftly, turning Molly around to face him again, his fingers reaching for the straps on her shoulder and freezing there. He's terrified of what he'll find under the fabric cupping her breasts, the thought of a stranger not only nearing her breasts but defiling them, sends cold rage through him, turning his knuckles white. 

Sensing his state, Molly quickly joins her hands on his at her straps, removing his hands from her. They fall limply to his lap. She then reaches for his face, her finger under his chin tilting his head until his eyes meet hers again.  _"It's okay Charles,"_  she says as her hands return to the straps of her bra, pulling them down, as she whispers _, "they didn't touch me like that. They didn't..."_  

He takes the time to look at her breasts, relieved to find them seemingly unscathed, his hands slowly finding her hips again, he pulls her closer to him, his eyes return to hers, as he puts his lips to the centre of her abdomen, just above her navel. Her hands come up to the side of his head, her fingers stroking through his curls. His lips then kiss their way across her stomach, reaching the curve of her breast, the spot he'd previously claimed his, nuzzling under its weight he stops and breathes her in.  _"That tickles,"_ she giggles, pulling his head back and leaning down to kiss him, leisurely sucking on his bottom lip.

 _"Hold that thought, I'll be right back,"_  she says as she steps away from his hold, turning to open the taps, she looks over her shoulder to see him watching her. 

When the temperature is right, she steps back between his legs, letting the water fill the bath.  _"My turn,"_  she says as her fingers caress his collar, his hands finding their way to rest on her bum. She slowly unbuttons his shirt, disappointed to find an undershirt restricting her access to skin.  _"Cheat!"_  she huffs, as she pulls him up to stand before her, pushing his shirt off and letting it fall to the floor. 

He smirks at her lightly, his pupils growing dark as her fingers find their way under his t-shirt, his fingers trail on her back, circling her shoulder blades. She then pulls his t-shirt up his torso, his hands coming to help as he lifts his shirt over his head. Her fingers set back on his ribcage, taking in his solidness. She takes a moment to look at him, reacquainting herself with the feel of his chest, her head following her fingers as she puts her lips to his scar. 

After a moment, his hand moves to bring her head back up, his lips latching to hers as his hands move to her waist, fiddling with the buttons of her pants. Her fingers follow suit, opening his belt and unzipping his trousers. Losing their patience, their fingers now fumble hurriedly, anxious to reach full exposure. Stepping out of her pants and knickers, now bunched on the floor, her fingers soon find his penis in its early stages of erection, making his breath catch sharply. 

 _"Dawes, the bath,"_  he whispers, panting and taking hold of her hand. He then turns her lightly and helps her into the bath, following to sit behind her, pulling her body to rest against his. 

 _"My turn,"_  she whispers as she turns her head to kiss him, her fingers finding his penis again, 

 _"What?"_  he says confused, kissing her. 

 _"You did me last night in the hospital but we never got to you. Now it's my turn to take care of you."_  

 _"Oh,"_  he says, fighting to calm himself as her fingers stroke him,  _"don't worry about it."_

 _"Charles,"_  she says, feeling his resistance, his insistence on holding something back, she looks into his eyes and sees alarm flashing through them.  _"Relax, baby, let go,"_  she slowly kisses his cheek and around his eye, returning her gaze to him, never letting his eyes go as she continues to stroke him,  _"let me."_


	33. Rapport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER  
> Other names used in this chapter are totally made up, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  
> AND: sexual content.

_"I have something for you,"_ she says as she comes back to bed.

_"Yeah? What it is it?"_

_"Here,"_ she reaches into the drawer of her nightstand and hands him an envelope, his name written across it in her handwriting. He takes it from her, a curious look meeting her eyes, as he smiles with bashful excitement.

 Opening the envelope, he pulls out a rectangle card, printed in a semi-formal design. She looks at him as he reads the invitation:

_Dear guest,_

_You are hereby excitedly invited to the final exhibition of the LATC photography group._

_The opening will take place on Saturday, July 1st, 21:00, at the Nespresso Shop,_  54 Regent St, London.

With photographs by this year's participants: J. Adler,  _S. Geoff, R. Malcolm,_ _L. Strand,_ _W. R. Stiles and our latest addition - M. Dawes_

_._

_"What's this?"_ he asks excited and confused. 

_"It's my surprise to you, part of it is anyway,"_

_"The Nespresso shop?"_

_"Well,"_ she smiles cheekily,  _"being a national war hero does have some benefits, I pulled some strings to get them to host us. So, will you come?"_

 _"Of course I'll come,"_ he takes a moment to grin at the unintended pun, his eyes glistening at her, eyebrows rising in a challenge.

 _"I'm holding you to it,"_ she plays along, climbing into his lap, her lips finding his ear, she whispers, _"Now. My period is over_." She raises her head to look at him expectantly, smiling. He smiles back, nodding and kissing her, his hands encircling her, caressing her back under her tank-top.  _"We just need a condom,"_ she says carefully onto his lips, _"because I'm not on the pill yet. Sorry."_

 _"Not a problem, Dawes."_ he smirks, his lips setting kisses along her neck,  _"Not. A. Problem."  
_

His fingers push her shirt up her body as his arms encircle her, silence ensues as he focuses on what he's doing. With a swift hoist he casually flips them over but as she lands back-down on the bed, a cry escapes her lips.  _"NO! GET OFF! GET OFF!"_ her hands shove strongly against his chest and arms, violently hitting and thrashing. Charles jumps back abruptly, his mind reeling to understand the sudden change in her tone and actions. He can see her folded and frightened at the other side of the bed. A moment passes as they stare at each other, panting, both terrified and confused.

Molly comes to her senses first, breaking the silence,  _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"_  she whispers, sitting back up, tears filling her eyes.  _"Charles?"_ her arm slowly stretches in his direction, her fingers searching his, but there is no reaction, she can see the fear in his eyes. 

 _"Molly, what the fuck?"_  he finally blurts out, barely audible, his eyes peeled at her. 

 _"It's not you,"_  she tries to explain,  _"you didn't do anything wrong. I promise. I, just, it was a flashback, from back there, from fighting Bhai. It's the position, I guess."_ She then falls silent, not knowing what to do, if her words reached him, what he's thinking.  _"Charles, I want to do this, I promise, maybe we just have to avoid you being on top."_ but she can see he's not with her; His mind still trying to process the scenario in which he'd hurt her, sexually, even if it wasn't real, wasn't the thing itself; the possibility of it, seeing and feeling her fight, him, for her safety, has scared the life out of him. He's never been as aware of his physical male muscularity, almost supremacy, over a woman, or anyone for that matter, as he was just now, and it disgusts him to his core.

 _"Charles,"_  she tries again after a while _,_

 _"_ _No Molly, sorry,"_  he says as he retreats further out of bed and into the en-suite bathroom,  _"just, give me a minute, please."_

Ten minutes later and Charles has yet to come out of the bathroom. Molly knocks on the door lightly.  _"Charles,"_ he doesn't answer,  _"I'm coming in."_   She then opens the door to find Charles sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. She slowly sits next to him _._ _"Listen to me,"_  she lays her hand on his, slowly making its way to be entwined with his fingers, his eyes fix on their joined hands, _"it wasn't your fault, you didn't do anything wrong, okay? It was the quick movement that triggered the flashback. But I need you now to be with me before this becomes a thing. Don't let it come between us. What happened with Bhai, happened, and I'm fighting against it with everything I've got, to not let it blow up and cripple me, but I need you with me._

 _"You are nothing like him. What happened back there has nothing to do with you; You are the kindest, most gentle, lovely, patient, attuned man I know, and I trust you in the deepest way possible. When you first brought me out, my body trusted you even when my mind couldn't understand it. So, I need you now to come back to bed with me, please, and just hold me. Just hold me. And we'll get through this, I promise. We don't have to do anything more than that. Can you do that, Charles?"  
_ He slowly raises his eyes to meet hers, searching for something in them, he nods silently. He then lets her pull him up to a stand and lead him to the bed.

Lying on the bed, she arranges them into their now habitual position; spooning into him, she encircles his arms around her. But as she tries to tuck his hand between her thighs, she feels his resistance, instead, she joins their hands at her stomach.  _"Tighter, Charles,"_  she requests quietly,  _"please,"_  she adds when he still hesitates, feeling him comply and gradually relax against her body, they then lay there together, waiting for sleep to come. 

...

She wakes a few hours later, in his arms, in the same position they'd eventually fallen asleep in, the difference being his hands had eventually found their way back between her thighs and she can now feel his erection at her back. She grinds lightly against him and receives a heavy grunt in return, his arms tightening around her to hold her in place.  _"What time is it?"_  he grumbles sleepily, his eyes still closed. 

 _"Early"_  she answers as she wiggles deeper against him, battling to get her knickers off. 

_"Molly,"_

_"Shhh, just slip it in, please,"_

_"We need a condom"_

_"No, we don't, just,"_

_"What's gotten into you?"_  he's now awake _, "let me just grab a condom,"_

 _"Charles, don't you dare fucking move,''_  she grabs at his arms to keep him from getting up. She can't explain the need she's feeling to feel him inside her,  _"just don't finish inside,"_  she continues, pulling his boxers down,  _"or, worst case, I'll go to the doctor for the pill in the morning, I, just, Charles, I NEED you, now."_

He can sense it, her need, though he doesn't understand it, she's almost frantic, her voice almost breaking, it tugs at his heart and makes his penis harder. Though he remembers last night, he can't fight her, his own need and want of her taking over him. Giving in, he puts his lips to her nape, kissing gently along her neck and behind her ear, as he extends a finger between her legs to check if she's ready for him. Finding her surprisingly wet, he raises her thigh to allow him entrance, slowly sliding into her, filling her to the hilt. It's so slow, it's almost painful, each of them completely aware of the sensation they've both been missing and craving.

It's then she starts crying, tears running down her cheeks,  _"Oh god, Charles,"_  she sobs quietly, but as he tries to pull out, terrified that he's hurting her, she hurriedly holds onto him, crying out.  _"No. Don't move. That feels so good."_ she's sobbing now _. "It's been so long, Charles, what have they done to us? It's been so long."_

Overwhelmed by her feelings and line of thought, Charles can't do anything but hold her tighter to him, waiting for her to calm down and relax, half-guiltily enjoying the feeling of being inside her again. He sets his lips to her shoulder, sucking and lightly sinking his teeth into her as if to ground himself, or her, to overcome the magnitude of this sensation. He tries to think how long it has been since the last time he's been inside her, felt her around him, the calculation making him desperate and hard. He'd never thought himself as unappreciative of this situation, to have taken it for granted, but the realization of how lucky they are now stirs something inside him makes him grateful and sends shivers down his spine. 

 _"Molls,"_  he whispers, holding her to him, his voice hoarse from worry and desire,  _"I need to move, but I need you to stop crying first, I can't do this if you're crying. We're alright, aren't we? We're alright."_

She nods at his words, collecting herself, trying to explain.  _"I remembered this feeling, of you inside me. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until just now but when you slipped in, it was like gaining something of myself back."_

 _"Molly,"_ he says as he pulls out of her,  _"fuck,"_  turning her to face him but keeping from rolling on top of her,  _"I'm going to cum way too soon, if you keep on talking like that, and I really, really want, need, to make love to you right now, so please,"_ he reaches to his nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer, handing it to her decisively while taking her lips in his. 

Sliding the condom on to him, she then climbs to straddle him, slowly lowering herself onto his erected penis, her eyes closed as she relishes the feeling, stretching it as much as possible before starting a slow rhythm. 

 _"God, Molly, you are so beautiful,"_  he whispers, mesmerized by the sight of her riding him,  _"you feel so incredibly_ _fucking_ _good."_   She opens her eyes and takes him in, beaming at him, raising the pace with a mischievous smile, leaning down to kiss him _,_ moaning with pleasure as the angle catches her clit.

_"Ditto,"_


	34. Re(dis)covery

At 21:20, dressed in a light blue shirt and a dark blazer, he steps into the coffee shop, taking in the small gathering inside. Standing near the door he soon locates Molly standing further inside, in conversation with Alex and another woman. 

He takes a moment to look at her, dressed in a light summer dress, showing her lean figure but covering enough to let her be comfortable. And that she does, her short hair designed with care and a very light, almost shy touch of make-up, make her look radiant, strong and especially beautiful. He can't take his eyes off her, wishing he could whisk her away somewhere to be alone with her. It's only been a day that she's been away, arranging things in London for the exhibition, and yet seeing her makes him realize just how much he'd missed her, how much he needs her, to be close to her, just how much he's in love with her.

As if she hears his silent musing, she raises her eyes directly to him, a huge, most beautiful grin spreading across her face as she excuses herself from her company and makes her way to him.  _"Hi,"_  she beams at him happily and bashful, as she nears him, excited to see him, to share this evening with him.  
His hand stretches out to her before he can form an answer and he pulls her into him, his lips finding hers, light and teasing and sweet, silently telling her how he feels to see her again.  _"So, you've missed me?"_  she laughs heartily as she catches her breath. 

_"You have no idea,"_  he says, taking her lips again. He doesn't know what's with him, he just can't seem to get enough of her. 

_"Oh, I think maybe I do,"_  she says as he rests his forehead to hers, allowing them to breathe,  _"me, and everybody else in the room,"_ she laughs. 

Realizing they might have an audience but unable to let go yet, he swerves her around, his body shielding her from any prying eyes as he looks into her eyes.  _"You look incredible, Molly, beautiful, you take my breath away. I don't care what anyone thinks, I've missed you,"_

_"It's only been one day,"_  she says with surprise, flattered yet embarrassed by his weird state. 

_"I don't care,"_ he shakes his head, _"too long."_

_"I've missed you too and I'm really happy you're here."_

_"I'm sorry I'm late by the way, bloody Saturday night traffic."_

_"You're not late, you're right on time and I got your message. Now, if you're up for it, there are some people I'd like you to meet. And there are photographs for you to see, this is an exhibition after all."  s_ he adds with mock importance.With that they look around, taking in the room; photographs standing on easels have been scattered amongst the shelves, the service counter turned into a light bar, offering sparkling wine, juice, and coffee _._

_"Which ones are yours?"_  

_"Mine are in the meeting room over there,"_  she hints toward the end of the room, shrugging lightly and biting her lip,  _"but, I think my parents are in there right now and I'd like you to wait till it's empty to see them, I think you should see them on your own,"_ he looks at her in surprise, his eyebrows high at her request,  _"please."_

_"Anything you want, Molly, you're the artist."_

_"I made them for you, well, for me, but, for you. You'll get it when you see them. I hope."_   He doesn't know what to say, doesn't understand her sudden insecurity. His hands cup her face, raising it to his, he sets a light kiss on her lips.

_"Lead the way,"_  he whispers before turning around and taking her hand in his.

About 30 minutes later, having met and greeted different people from Molly's group as well as Belinda and Dave, and taken a quick look at the works presented, Molly signals Charles toward the now empty meeting room. Her pictures lining the wall around the long table, it seems there are significantly more than the rest of the participants are presenting. 

_"You want me to stay or go while you look?"_  she asks nervously. 

_"Stay,"_  he answers quietly, already overwhelmed by what's in front of him. She nods and closes the glass sliding door behind them, the room turning quiet, she leans against the door as he slowly looks around.

.

The first photograph depicts an innocent looking stack of coffee sacks – huge hemp sacks, filled to the brim, the brand stamp clearly visible, lying one on top of the other in the soft sunlight. The heaviness of the sacks and the yellow glow creating a warm feeling of ease and belonging, one can almost smell the brewing of coffee. But it's the title that gives the photo its meaning:  **_'A_ ** _**sack over my head'.**    
_

Charles immediately recognizes it as a quote from Molly's account of her kidnapping, it works like a punch to the gut; giving the photograph a painful double meaning, breaking any sense of security and comfort.

.

The second photograph is very dark, most of it portraying darkness. 

In a bizarre manipulation, the one light source is an outstretched hand, placed in the middle of the canvas, offering safety or help. 

Floating in the black background, it seems the hand itself is emitting light. Charles knows the exact moment it's portraying, seeing it now from Molly's point of view; her moment of rescue, as he'd crouched down before her, waiting for her decision to deem him trustworthy and let him help. In his dreams, he often finds himself back in this moment, the unpredictability of it, the explosive potential it holds, between danger and security, the possibility she'd choose otherwise, still haunting him. It's all there in the photograph; Molly's way of expressing her feelings, her fears, the crossroads and resolutions she's been facing but also him - the security and light he brings to her. It's almost too much, he doesn't think he can go on. He turns to look at her, standing at the door, her face strong with concentration, her eyes dark as she studies him. With a small smile and a slight nod of the head, she tells him to go on, to move to the next photograph. 'It gets better,' he suddenly hears, unsure if she'd actually said it or he's imagining it, a telepathic message from her, a silent conversation happening between them across the room.

.

The third photograph leaves him astounded. It's Afghan, he's sure of it. More than that, it's the view from the roof of the portacabin he'd used during her recovery. The one he'd taken her to, on the night he told her he must leave, where he told her about them, where he'd showed her the ring. 

_"How the bloody fuck..."_  he mumbles to himself, the question dying on his lips. He can hear her giggling lightly behind him but can't seem to tear himself from the photograph. 

In this too there is something so dual; The picture taken in the early morning light, the desert view is mesmerizing in its soft yellows and pinks, the horizon slowly meeting the light blue of daylight. It draws you in. But in the left-hand corner of the photograph, a long, dark shadow creeps across the roof, stretching its threat into the horizon. It's unsettling, the way one side of the photograph is so capturing and the other so threatening. It makes Molly's intention so clear, the beautiful country forever scarred with war and danger, two-faced and treacherous, security always marred by fear, an eternal darkness always lurking in the corner of light.

.

The next photograph is darker but livelier, it's like it allows a breath of life. Clearly taken in England, the lush greens of plants along a dirt road give it a feeling of hope and calmness. In the middle of the picture two feet can be seen, two running shoes, one next to the other, both right feet, in the middle of a stride. One significantly bigger than the other, Charles can swear it's his old running shoe next to hers, wonderstruck at how she'd gotten to the details. 

But other than size, the two feet are completely equal, their stride and velocity in the momentum as they run together, create a feeling of perfect unison and compatibility, partnership even. When he thinks about it, it looks like the forest trail in Aldershot, reminding him of their morning runs together, before her last tour. He wonders if this means she remembers them, their shared morning routine, another memory recovered. 

Whatever it is, the message she's trying to portray to him is clear, and as he looks at the title she'd given the photograph, it sums it perfectly; " _ **Together**_ ". It makes his heart miss a beat, an excited feeling of happiness and hope building inside him.

.

The last photograph is, surprisingly, of the two of them together. He's surprised she'd allowed herself to share an intimate moment of theirs, in such a public setting, but looking at the picture, he can also understand it. If it wasn't him in the picture, he'd be jealous of the bliss their sitting in. 

Photographed in black and white, Molly curled up in his arms, they're sitting on the window sill in their living room, their eyes closed as they're enjoying the sun coming in through the windows. He's not sure how she'd taken this picture but he remembers that moment; the pure content he'd felt at having her home, in his arms, with no pressure, nowhere to go, nothing to do. It was just the two of them, at their leisure, at home. That's what comes out of the photograph - a delightful feeling of belonging, of peacefulness, being able to finally rest in a familiar, safe, welcoming home. 

But as he looks again at the picture, he sees something that was not there when it was taken, he's sure of it, it couldn't have been, not without him noticing, it must be a photoshop manipulation. On his folded knee, the only object in the photograph holding any colour, a hint of deep dark blue, sits a small square box. He spins around to Molly, his hand automatically feeling for his pocket, he finds her standing next to him, smiling, a wicked gleam in her eyes. 

_"How did you? Did you steal my ring? What?"_  he asks as he takes the small blue box from his pocket, relieved to see it there yet confused. 

And then he sees Molly mirroring him,  _"I have my own blue box, Charles,"_  she says as she presents him with an identical box,  _"for you."_

_"I don't understand,"_ he mumbles, cautious to let his mind process his hopes into meaning.

_"I'm ready, Charles,"_  she says, her eyes meeting his, serious and passionate.  _"I don't NEED to marry you; this isn't a 'marry me' ring. It's an 'I'd be extremely happy and honored to spend the rest of my life with you and show you what you mean to me,' ring._ _I don't care what label we put on it, as long as I can wake up next to you in the morning and tell you every day how much I love you."_

_"Ditto, Molly, ditto,"_ he says, overwhelmed with emotions as he pulls her into him. _"Thank you for showing me, I don't know how you did it, but every picture is fucking precise. You were right, I do get it, thank you."_ He can't get over it, seeing himself in her eyes, the process she's been through to find herself and her place again, and him.  _"I love you, I love you so much, I don't have the words to tell you. I'll tell you every day, Molly, I swear, I'll show you every day, I'm so in love with you, I'm so happy you're here and proud of you, fuck Molly_ ," he can't keep it in anymore, she giggles at his downpour of emotions, the happiness that bounces off him, before his lips finally find hers, as if actions can say more than words.

His lips caressing hers, his tongue swirling against hers, he tries to relate to her what he's feeling, how deep she's touched him, how she owns every inch of his body and soul, how he can't and doesn't want to live without her, how much he needs her, how much better his life is when she's there, how she makes him a better man and how all he wants for the rest of time is to keep her safe and make her happy.

.

_"Oi! You two!"_  the door slips open and Belinda rushes in,  _"What just happened here?! What are you two up to?"_  they both look up from their private moment, to find an audience standing outside the glass doors, clapping their hands and smiling. They bashfully fold into one another's arms, laughing in embarrassment. 

_"I believe we just got engaged, mum,"_  Molly says finally, looking at Charles with a spark in her eyes. 

_"One more thing to do, Molly,"_  he says as he takes her hand, his fingers gently stroking her finger, skillfully opening the box in his other hand. 

Her eyes fall to the ring and then rise back to meet his eyes as she nods excitedly and lets him slip the ring on her finger. Then she does the same for him, their fingers intertwining in a silent promise to cherish one another and their new-found luck and happiness. 

 

...

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!  
> Hope you've enjoyed the ride...  
> Feel welcome (and encouraged) to leave a comment/ review, and make my day :)  
> Picpicpic


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